FROM   THE  LIBRARY  OF 
REV.   LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON.  D.  D. 

BEQUEATHED   BY  HIM  TO 

THE  LIBRARY  OF 

PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


SectioD  /  0^  «=^ 


,*N  U, 


/^> 


HEAVEN  IN 


1934 


COMPRISING  THE 


GEMS   OF  ALL   AGES 


THE    BETTER    LAND 


BY       "^^ 

HENRY   C.   FISH,   D.D., 

AITTHOR    OF    "HISTORY    AND    REPOSITORY    OF    PULPIT    ELOQUENCE,'''    "HANDBOOK    OF 
REVIVALS,"  "the  HOUR  FOR  ACTION,"  "PRIMITIVE  PIETY  REVIVED,"  ETC. 


NEW    YORK: 
SHELDON   &   CO.,  PUBLISHERS. 

1874. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1873,  by 

SHELDON  &  CO., 
in  the  OflBce  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


**. 


THIS  VOLUME 


LOYHTGLY  IITSGRIBED 


IJiss   DELIA  J.   FISl^, 


To  whose  essential  aid  it  owes  its  preparation^ 


The  rabbins  report  that  when  Joseph  gathered  much  corn 
in  Egypt,  he  threw  the  chaff  into  the  Nile,  that,  flowing  to 
the  neighboring  cities  and  nations  more  remote,  they  might 
know  what  was  laid  up  for  them.  So  God  hath  thrown  some 
husks  to  us  in  this  world,  that,  tasting  the  sweetness  thereof, 
we  might  aspire  to  his  bounty  above. — Spencer. 


PREFACE. 


I 


T  is  Coleridge  who  says,  that 

In  some  hours  of  solemn  jubilee 
The  massy  gates  of  Paradise  are  thrown 
Wide  open,  and  forth  come  in  fragments  wild, 
Sweet  echoes  of  unearthly  melodies, 
And  odors  snatched  from  beds  of  amaranth. 

The  purpose  of  this  volume  is  to  gather  up  and  pre- 
sent some  of  these  echoes  of  unearthly  melodies,  poured 
forth  in  Christian  song. 

As  a  Lyra  Ccelestis,  embracing  the  master-pieces  and 
choicest  lyrics  upon  Heaven,  selected  from  all  the  hymno- 
logical  sources,  home  and  foreign,  modern  and  ancient, 
it  is  the  most  extensive  collection  that  has  hitherto  been 
attempted. 

We  must  view  it  as  a  cause  for  gratitude  that  so  many 
of  the  hymnists  have  chosen  this  as  their  theme.  Every 
reader  of  these  pages  will  be   impressed  with    the   variety 


VI  PREFACE. 

and  richness  of  their  productions.       Heaven,  indeed,  in  thfr 
words  of  Bishop   Hall,  hath  many  tongues  to  talk  of  it. 

As  a  book  for  the  parlor-table  and  the  shelf  of  the 
library;  for  the  closet  and  the  sick-room;  for  hours  of 
literary  enjoyment  and  of  devotional  musing ;  for  the  use 
of  young  disciples  and  of  experienced  saints,  it  is  hoped 
that  "  Heaven  in  Song"  will  prove  a  favorite  gift. 

May  it  please  the  Blessed  One,  whose  presence  is  the 
glory  of  Heaven,  to  accept  the  offering,  and  make  it  an 
inspiration  and  a  joy  to  many  in  the  house  of  their  pil- 
grimage. 

H.  C.  F. 

Newark,  N.  J.,  November^  1873. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


PART  FIRST. 


HEAVEN  IN  SONG. 


AUTHOR. 

PAGB. 

Everlasting  Light, 

William  Cowper, 

I 

Onward  into  Light, 

R.  C.  Trench. 

2 

My  native  land. 

From  the  Spanish. 

3 

My  country's  loveliness, 

From  the  Latin. 

3 

Heaven  of  heavens, 

Edmund  Spenser. 

4 

Here  and  There, 

J.  P.  Lange. 

6 

The  dwelling-place  above, 

Bishop  Mant. 

8 

The  goodly  land. 

Mrs.  Anne  Steele. 

9 

Yon  bright  wonder-land, 

From  Schiller. 

II 

How  can  we  know  the  way  ? 

From  Schiller. 

12 

None  in  Heaven  but  Thee, 

Sir  Robert  Grant. 

13 

Sonnet  to  Heavenly  beauty. 

Du  Bell  ay. 

M 

No  night  shall  be  in  Heaven, 

Thomas  Raffles. 

15 

No  graves  are  there, 

R.  A.  Rhees. 

i6 

Attractions  of  Heaven. 

i8 

Allurements  of  Heaven, 

E.  H.  BiCKERSTETH. 

20 

Reunion, 

Bishop  Mant. 

20 

Know  as  we  are  known, 

Bishop  Ken. 

21 

The  meeting  place. 

HORATIUS  BONAR. 

21 

The  land  of  which  I  dream, 

HORATIUS  BONAR. 

24 

More  blest  than  Eden, 

Bishop  CoxE. 

25 

His  throne  and  temple, 

W.  A.  Muhlenberg. 

27 

To  be  there. 

Elizabeth  Mills. 

28 

The  other  world. 

Mrs.  H.  B.  Stowe. 

25 

Heaven  near, 

Mrs.  Mary  J.  Robinson. 

31 

Vlll 


TABLE   OF  CONTENTS. 


The  voiceful  land. 

Heaven's  joys. 

The  incorruptible. 

There  shall  be  no  more  sea, 

Life's  questions, 

Talk  to  me  of  Heaven, 

The  witness  of  earth  to  Heaven, 

Down  below  and  up  above, 

Soon  and  forever. 

The  gates  of  the  celestial  city. 

Etemitas,  Etemitas, 

Heaven  at  last. 

At  home, 

I  shall  be  satisfied. 

The  eternal  smile, 

Just  beyond. 

Light  and  love. 

The  land  of  peace. 

Dies  Ilia,  Dies  Vitae, 

Paradise  in  a  dream, 

The  one  glad  day. 

The  mourner's  heaven. 

The  land  beyond  the  sea, 

The  shore  of  eternity, 

The  last  day  and  eternal  life. 

The  everlasting  rest. 

How  glorious  must  the  mansion  be. 

The  better  land. 

Look  up  ye  saints, 

The  second  day  of  creation. 

My  guess  of  Heaven, 

The  seen  and  the  unseen. 

Martyr's  song, 

When  nightly  through  the  sky. 

What  shall  we  be  ? 

Athanatos, 

The  exile's  vision, 

Things  unseen  and  unheard, 

[larps  in  Heaven, 


AUTHOR 

PAGE. 

C.  H.  A.  BULKLEY. 

32 

Thomas  a'Kempis. 

34 

HORATIUS  BONAR. 

36 

Marianne  Farningham. 

37 

Henry  Alford. 

38 

Mrs.  Southey. 

40 

Thomas  H.  Gill. 

42 

Dublin  University  Magazine, 

.     43 

J.  S.  Monskt.t,. 

46 

48 

From  the  Latin. 

49 

50 

H   B  Collins. 

51 

From  the  Congregationalist. 

52 

H.  Kirk  White. 

54 

55 

Alice  Cary. 

56 

Marianne  Farningham. 

56 

Hymn  of  the  I2th  Century. 

58 

Christina  G.  Rossetti. 

59 

F.  D.  Huntington. 

61 

Thomas  H.  Gill. 

63 

F.  W.  Faber. 

64 

F.  W.  Faber. 

66 

Paul  Gerhardt. 

63 

Thomas  H.  Gill. 

72 

Reginald  Heher. 

73 

Mrs.  Felicia  Hemans. 

74 

Henry  W.  Baker. 

75 

T.  Whytehead. 

76 

Thomas  Ken. 

79 

HoRATius  Bonar. 

81 

Christina  G.  Rossetti. 

85 

From  the  Spanish. 

88 

Anonymous. 

91 

H.  Kirk  White. 

92 

Paul  Gerhardt. 

94 

Giles  Fletcher. 

98 

E.  H,  Bickersteth. 

100 

TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


IX 


A  home  in  Heaven, 
Invitations  from  Heaven. 
Minister's  welcome  to  Heaven, 
My  place  in  Heaven, 
No  stranger  in  Heaven, 
Through  a  glass  darkly. 
Recognition  in  Heaven, 
Reminders  of  Heaven, 
Rest  in  Heaven, 
Scorning  Heaven, 
Meditation  of  Heaven, 
Ransomed  spirits  calling  us  to 

Heaven, 
Hearts  united. 
Our  abiding  city, 
Hastening  home. 
The  distant  shore, 
Heaven  and  earth  contrasted. 
The  spotless  robe. 
The  promised  mansions, 
The  debt  of  Heaven  to  earth. 
Joyful  haste, 
Home,  sweet  Home, 
Faith's  choice. 
Land  ahead. 
Heaven's  dawn, 
The  shadowless, 
Heavenly  Canaan, 
Hope  of  our  hearts. 
The  welcome  day, 
I  thither  lift  my  eyes, 
Paradise  restored, 
Arise,  fly  up,  and  run. 
Wreck  of  the  universe. 
We  seek  the  promised  soil, 
O  for  the  pearly  gates, 
There  is  a  fold  whence   none 

stray, 
Name  ever  dear  to  me. 


AUTHOR. 

PAGB. 

William  Hunter. 

lOI 

I02 

E.  H.  BiCKERSTETH. 

103 

John  Mason. 

104 

E.  H.  BiCKERSTETH. 

105 

Matthew  Prior, 

106 

Anonymous. 

106 

Anonymous. 

108 

William  B.  Tappan. 

109 

John  Milton. 

IIO 

Isaac  Watts. 

no 

Edwin  H.  Nevin. 

III 

Albert  Laighton. 

112 

John  Kelly. 

113 

John  Burton. 

114 

Eraser's  Magazine. 

115 

Thomas  Moore. 

1x6 

Thomas  Moore. 

117 

Richard  Cumberland. 

118 

Thomas  H.  Gill. 

119 

William  Hunter. 

121 

Sir  John  Denham. 

122 

Isaac  Watts. 

123 

124 

Thomas  Gibbons. 

125 

G.  Robins. 

126 

Isaac  Watts. 

127 

Sir  Edward  Denny. 

128 

Isaac  Watts. 

129 

Benjamin  Beddome. 

130 

Charles  Wesley. 

131 

Isaac  Watts. 

132 

Mather  Byles. 

133 

Anna  L.  Barbauld. 

134 

C.  F.  Alexander, 

135 

Bishop  East. 

136 

Latin  hymn  of  8th  Centur)'. 

137 

TABLE   OF  CONTENTS. 


AUTHOR. 

PAUB 

The  other  side. 

Anonymous. 

138 

Children  of  the  Kingdom, 

Anne  Shepherd. 

139 

What  then  ? 

Anonymous.. 

140 

The  favored  of  their  Judge, 

Edward  Young. 

141 

New  Heavens  and  new  earth. 

J.  Walther. 

141 

Awake,  the  night  is  flying, 

From  the  German. 

143 

The  great  city  of  God, 

T.  Buchanan  Read. 

145 

The  transparent  throne, 

Jeremy  Taylor. 

147 

The  beautiful  city,  Zion  the  free. 

149 

Joyful  words,  we  meet  again, 

From  the  German. 

150 

An  echo  of  Heaven, 

George  Herbert. 

151 

Songs  of  the  blessed. 

Hymns  Ancient  and  Mod. 

152 

The  land  of  promise. 

Thomas  Olivers. 

153 

There  is  no  more  sea. 

Fysh. 

156 

Where  the  blind  see. 

Jessie  Glenn. 

158 

Where  the  deaf  hear. 

James  Montgomery. 

159 

Ascend  beloved  to  the  joy, 

HORATIUS  Bonar. 

160 

The  unknown  country, 

Dinah  M.  Mulock  Craik. 

162 

Open  is  the  starry  hall. 

From  the  Latin. 

163 

PART  SKCOHD. 


THE  HEAVENLY  STATE. 


The  holy  church  invisible. 
The  seat  of  glory. 
In  bridal  beauty  drest, 
Forever  with  the  Lord, 
Paradise  must  fairer  be. 
Know  ye  the  land, 
That  shall  be  for  thee  and  me. 
High  in  yonder  realms  of  light. 
Winter  braming — summer  flaming, 
Jerusalem  the  golden, 
Jerusalem,  thy  glorious  walls, 
O  mother  dear,  Jerusalem, 
The  gates  of  gold, 


Lyra  Aposlolica.  167 

Charles  Drummond.  168 

J.  S.  B.  MoNSELL.  169 

James  Montgomery.  171 

From  the  German.  173 

From  the  German.  174 

HoRATius  Bonar.  175 

Thomas  Raffles.  177 

Latin  Hymn.  179 

Gerald  Massey.  180 
John  Matthew  Meyfart.    182 

David  Dickson.  185 

Gerard  Moultrie.  194 


TABLE   OF   CONTENTS. 


XI 


The  celestial  countiy, 

The  better  country. 

Oh,  Paradise  must  show  more  fair, 

Oh  what  is  this  splendor? 

Pleasant  are  Thy  courts  above, 

On  yonder  holy  ground, 

The  centre  of  my  bliss, 

In  Jesus'  sight, 

Thy  gates  of  glistening  pearl  unfold. 

Where  is  the  land  he  saw  ? 

Light's  abode,  celestial  Salem. 

When  I  tliink  what  shall  befall. 

In  the  Fount  of  life  perennial. 

My  thirsty  soul's  desire, 

Will  it  no  pleasure  be  ? 

Now  the  pilgrim  sad  and  weary, 

The  evening  watch. 

Bathed  in  unfallen  sunlight, 

I  know  the  walls  are  jasper. 

Nevermore  and  evermore, 

When  we  reach  a  quiet  dwelling, 

Bright  sun,  thou  dost  blessedly  shine, 

There  is  a  river  pure  and  bright. 

Glorious  things  of  thee  are  spoken, 

A    beautiful    land,    by    the    spoiler 

untrod. 
Around    them,  bright   with   endless 

spring, 
There  is  a  place  of  sacred  rest, 
I  know  not  where   those   mansions 

lie. 
Her  streets  with  burnished  gold  are 

paved. 
All   about    Him    sheddeth    glorious 

light. 
In  seeing  Him  they  find  repose, 
I^ord  of  the  worlds  above. 
Give  me  the  lowest  place. 
The  vision  of  John, 


AUTHOR. 

Bernard  of  Clugny. 
Bernard  of  Clugny. 
Friedrick  Ruckert. 
F.  W.  Faber. 
Henry  Francis  Lyte. 
HoRATius  Bonar. 
Samuel  Grossman. 
George  H.  Houghton. 
John  Henry  Hopkins. 
C.  L.  Ford. 

Peter  Gonella. 
Peter  Damiani. 
Peter  Damiani. 
From  the  German. 
A.  Knapp. 
Henry  Vaughan. 
Horatius  Bonar. 
Helen  L.  Parmlee. 
Dublin  University  Magazine 
From  the  Changed  Cross. 
Thomas  H.  Gill. 
James  Montgomery. 
John  Newton. 


PAGE. 

200 
214 
221 
223 
225 
226 
228 
230 
231 

235 
236 

239 
243 
249 
251 

254 
255 
257 
258 
260 
262 
264 
265 

266 


Augustine. 

268 

Robert  Turnbull. 

268 

269 

Francis  Quarles. 

270 

Edmund  Spenser. 

271 

Dante. 

272 

Isaac  Watts. 

273 

Christina  G.  Rossetti. 

274 

Crammond  Kennedy. 

275 

Xll 


TABLE   OF  CONTENTS. 


PART  THIRD. 

INHABITANTS  OF  HEAVEN. 


A  little  child  shall  lead  them. 

Stars  of  glory,  lights  of  Heaven, 

Why  do  we  call  them  lost  ? 

Suffer  them  to  come  to  me, 

Whom  have  I  in  Heaven  but  Thee  ? 

Still  thou  art  mine  own, 

Where  I  shall  with  my  Jesus  be, 

Woman,  why  weepest  thou? 

Equal  unto  the  angels. 

Angels  bright,  all  glistening  glorious. 

What  means  yon  blaze  on  high  ? 

Heaven  grows  dearer  day  by  day. 

Thou  wilt  never  grow  old, 

Who  are  these  before  God's  throne? 

Who  would  recall  her? 

She  is  in  Heaven  !     How  sweet  the 

phrase, 
Find  room,  dear  Lord,  for  me, 
Over  the  river  they  beckon  me. 
They  are   gathering   homeward    one 

by  one. 
Open  ye  the  gates,  for  the  battle  hath 

ended, 
Go   lay   their  little    heads    on    that 

heart, 
I  wait  till  the  hinges  turn  for  me. 
Whence  came  that  multitude  ? 
Go  not  to  Heaven  alone, 
We  ask  not  what  the  joy  shall  be, 
A  vision  of  the  doom, 
Bright  glory  resting  on  Thy  brow. 
See  a  long  race  Thy  courts  adorn, 
When  your  flesh  dissolves  to  dust. 
Oh,  with  what  congratulations. 


AUTHOR. 

PAGE. 

May  Riley  Smith. 

281 

Augustine. 

283 

Church  of  England  Mag. 

284 

Lyra  Anglican  a. 

285 

Francis  Quarles. 

287 

Paul  Gerhardt. 

288 

J.  Franck. 

292 

Harriet  Beechesl  Stowe. 

293 

294 

Edmund  Spenser. 

295 

Henry  Hart  Milman. 

296 

Anonymous. 

299 

Mrs.  HOWARTH. 

299 

From  the  Ger.  of  Schenck. 

301 

Ray  Palmer. 

303 

Charlotte  Elliott. 

304 

Thomas  H.  Gill. 

305 

Nancy  W.  Priest. 

306 

Bap.  Missionary's  Daughter.    308 
William  Palin.  309 


George  W.  Bethune. 

310 

William  Cullen  Bryant. 

312 

Marianne  Farningham. 

315 

Thomas  C.  Upham, 

317 

Anonymous. 

318 

Gerard  Moultrie. 

319 

324 

Alexander  Pope. 

325 

Thomas  Ken. 

326 

328 

TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


XUl 


Clad  in  garments  radiant  white, 

God  keeps  a  niche  in  Heaven,      « 

Oh  give  them  again  to  me, 

The  innumerable  greeting, 

O  happy  saints  who  dwell  in  light, 

My  Saviour  whom  absent  I  love. 

To  be  with  Christ  which  is  far  better, 

Will  any  be  watching  for  me  ? 

Give  me  the  wings  of  faith. 

Lambs  of  the  upper  fold. 

Father,  I  long,  I  faint. 

Our  everlasting  portion, 

Oh  the  delights,  the  Heavenly  joys. 

Ye  whoe'er  for  Christ  are  seeking, 

Oft  weeping  memory  sits  alone, 

One  in  life  and  one  in  death. 

They  are  not  Ipst,  but  gone  before. 

The    band    ftiat    now    in     triumph 

shines. 
My  soul  there  is  a  country, 


AUTHOR, 

Archibald  Edmonstone. 
Elizabeth  B.  Browning. 
Marianne  Farningham, 

E.  H.  BiCKERSTETH. 

John  Berridge. 
William  Cowper. 
Charles  Wesley. 
Poems  of  Home  Life. 
Isaac  Watts. 

Isaac  Watts. 
Thomas  H.  Gill. 
Isaac  Watts. 
From  the  Latin. 
Henry  Harbaugh. 
HORATIUS  Bonar. 


Giles  Fletcher. 
Henry  Vaughan. 


PAGE. 

328 
329 
330 
331 

333 
334 
335 
336 
337 
338 
339 
340 
342 
343 
344 
345 
346 

347 
349 


PART  FOURTH. 

OCCUPATION  OF  HEAVEN. 


In  the  green  pastures. 

Palms  of  glory,  raiment  white. 

When  the  angels  all  are  singing, 

They  praise  Him  day  and  night. 

The  endless  alleluia. 

What  songs  shall  we  sing? 

The  music  of  Heaven  is  attuned. 

The  song  is  ever  new. 

Such  concord  is  in  Heaven, 

The  everlasting  praise. 

Alleluia  to  the  Lamb, 

Angel  choirs  on  high  are  singing, 


From  the  Spanish.  353 

James  Montgomery.  354 

Sir  Nicholas  Breton.  355 

Marianne  Farningham.  357 

Ancient  Hymns  and  Poems.  358 

Elias  Mason.  360 

F.  E.  Cox.  361 

Robert  Pollok.  362 

John  Milton.  362 

Anne  Steele.  363 

From  the  Latin.  364 

From  the  Latin.  365 


XIV 


TABLE   OF  CONTENTS. 


Seraphs  with  elevated  strains, 
Sing  with  me  weeping  brethren, 
They  keep  the  joyous  jubilee, 


AUTHOR. 

Isaac  Watts. 
James  Hogg, 
horatius  bonar. 


PAGB. 
366 

370 


PART  FIFTH. 

THE  REST  OF  HEAVEN. 


When  shall  I  be  at  rest. 

Rest  for  thee  in  Heaven. 

Then  welcome  change  and  death, 

Tell  me,  ye  winged  winds. 

My  rest  is  not  here. 

Yes,  there  remaineth  a  rest. 

And  is  there,  Lord,  a  rest  ? 

O  restful  Home,  we  turn  to  thee. 

Until  the  evening  we  must  weep  and 

toil, 
No  tossing  of  the  burning  head. 
Yet  a  little  care  and  weeping. 
Pass  over  to  the  rest  of  God, 

0  spirit,  freed  from  bondage, 
Sweet  must  it  be  to  dwell. 
Mourner,  look  above, 

I'm  weary  of  straying. 
Then  open,  O  gate  of  sleep, 

1  thank  Thee  for  that  word  of  peace. 
Beyond  this  toilsome  clime, 

That  weariness  may  toss  him  to  my 

breast, 
First   the    sorrowful,   and    then    the 

glad, 
Spirit,  thy  labor  is  o'er. 
Have  we  found  that  happy  city? 
Ye  golden  lamps,  farewell. 
Rest  when  life  is  done. 
Far  from  the  discord  loud, 


Church  of  Eng.  Quarterly. 

373 

374 

HORATIUS  BONAR. 

374 

Charles  Mackay. 

375 

Henry  Francis  Lyte. 

377 

From  the  German. 

378 

Ray  Palmer. 

380 

Marianne  Farningham. 

381 

Anonymous. 

382 

Marianne  Farningham. 

383 

From  the  German. 

384 

HORATIUS  BONAR. 

385 

Mary  Howitt. 

387 

388 

Mary  S,  Robbins. 

388 

Mrs.  Hinsdale. 

389 

Christian  Treasury. 

390 

W.  S.  COLTON. 

391 

Anonymous. 

394 

George  Herbert. 

Horatius  Bonar. 

From  Household  Words. 
Philip  Doddridge. 
Effie  Johnson. 
Marianne  Farningham. 


396 

397 
398 
399 
402 

403 
404 


TABLE   OF  CONTENTS. 


XV 


Those  endless  sabbaths  spent, 

Sorrow  and  sighing  shall  flee  away, 

God's  own  smile,  forever  and  forever, 

Safe  home  at  last. 

A  rest  here  have  I  never, 

Let  me  haste  to  join  thy  bliss, 

Hark  !  angelic  songs  are  swelling. 

Oh,  what  a  mighty  change. 

In  the  Christian's  home  in  glory. 

There  is  an  hour  of  hallowed  peace. 

When  I  can  read  my  title  clear. 

Rest  for  the  toiling  hand, 

Thro'  life,  thro'  death,  to  his  eternal 

resl, 
O  had  I  the  wings  of  a  dove. 
The  sabbath  of  Thy  love, 
O  could  our  thoughts  and  wishes  fly. 
Build  thy  nest  higher, 
Rest  weary  soul,  the  penalty  is  borne. 
The  golden  street, 
A  little  while  the  vigil  keeping. 


AUTHOR. 

From  Lyra  Eucharistica. 
Marianne  Farningham. 
Jane  Crewdson. 

Paul  Gerhardt. 

HORATIUS  Bonar. 
F.  W.  Faber. 
Charles  Wesley. 

William  B.  Tappan. 
Isaac  Watts. 
Horatius  Bonar. 

Anonymous. 
Henry  Francis  Lyte. 
Charles  Wesley. 
Anne  Steele. 
Gerald  Massey. 
Anonymous. 
William  O.  Stoddard. 
Jane  Crewdson. 


405 
406 
407 
408 
409 
414 

415 
416 

417 
418 
419 
420 

421 
422 
422 

423 
424 

425 
426 
427 


PART  SIXTH. 

ASPIRATIONS  FOR  HEAVEN. 


O,  to  be  There  ! 

Clear  fount  of  light,  my  native  land, 

0  had  I  the  wings  like  yonder  bird. 
Dear  Saviour,  our  hearts  burn  within. 
Give  me  now  my  lyre, 

Christ,  let  me  come  to  thee, 
Come,  Lord,  my  heart  is  sick, 
Me  to  Zion  take  in  pity, 

1  would  go  home. 

How  long,  O  Lord,  how  long  ? 
Now,  Lord,  let  me  go. 


From  the  Dutch. 
Francesco  de  Aldana. 
Weir. 

From  the  German. 
Elizabeth  Lloyd. 
Mary  M.  Graves. 
George  Herbert. 
From  the  Latin. 
From  the  German. 
Helen  L.  Parmlee. 


431 

432 
432 
433 
434 
435 
437 
438 
440 
442 
443 


XVI 


TABLE   OF  CONTENTS. 


0  take  me  to  His  feet. 
Teach  me  that  new  song, 

1  rise  to  see  the  light. 

Why  tarriest  thou,  expected  day  ? 

Moraris  Heu  !    Nimis  Diu, 

I'm  weary,  weary,  let  me  go, 

The  beauty  of  my  native  land, 

Fade,  fade,  each  earthly  joy. 

From  earth  to  Heaven, 

Permit  mine  eyes  to  see, 

O  Heaven,  sweet  Heaven, 

O  were  I  there. 

Death  an  entrance  to  Heaven, 

My  spirit  longs  for  Heaven, 

Who  doth  not  crave  thy  rest  ? 

My  soul,  don't  delay,  He   calls   thee 

away, 
Sweet  glories  rush  upon  my  sight, 

0  for  the  pearly  gates  of  Heaven, 
When  shall  I  be,  my  God,  with  thee. 
Lead  us  to  Thy  home, 

1  love  to  think  of  Heaven, 
Haste,  my  beloved,  raise  my  soul, 
Let  me  be  with  Thee,  where   Thou 

art, 
I  send  the  joys  of  earth  away. 
Rise,  my  soul,  and  stretch  thy  wings. 
My  Saviour  beckons  from  on  high, 
Come  let  us  join  our  friends  above. 
Meet   again !      Yes,   we    shall    meet 

again, 
Joys  of  the  earth,  ye  fade  away. 
Worthies  there  of  sacred  story, 
World,  farewell !  of  thee  I'm  tired. 
Ye    angels    who    stand    round    the 

throne, 
While  on  the  verge  of  life  I  stand, 
I  long  to  behold  Him  arrayed, 
O  for  the  wings  of  faith  and  love, 


AUTHOR. 

PACK. 

From  the  Presbyterian. 

445 

Anonymous. 

446 

447 

From  the  Latin. 

448 

449 

Ray  Palmer. 

450 

From  the  Latin. 

452 

Mrs.  Horatio  Bonar. 

453 

NiCOL. 

455 

Robert  Herrick. 

456 

Edwin  H.  Nevin. 

457 

Mrs.  Frelinghausen. 

458 

Francis  Taylor. 

459 

Mrs.  Emily  C.  Judson. 

461 

F.  W.  Faber. 

462 

John  Gambolde. 

464 

Hym.  of  the  Church  Militant 

.  465 

C.  F.  Alexander. 

466 

Samuel  Grossman. 

467 

F.  T.  Palgrave. 

470 

SVVAINE. 

471 

Isaac  Watts, 

471 

Charlotte  Elliott. 

472 

Isaac  Watts. 

473 

Robert  Seagrave. 

474 

From  the  London  Record. 

475 

Charles  Wesley. 

476 

From  the  German. 

478 

Christian  Examiner. 

479 

From  the  German. 

481 

From  the  German. 

483 

De  Fleury. 

486 

Philip  Doddridge. 

4S7 

Charles  Wesley. 

489 

Mrs.  Anne  Steele. 

490 

TABLE   OF  CONTENTS. 


XVll 


Thy  presence  beams  eternal  day. 

To  Jesus  the  crown  of  my  hope, 

When  yonder  glorious  sky. 

O  for  the  robes  of  whiteness, 

What  joy  while  thus  I  view  the  day. 

Would  God  I  were  in  thee. 

Beyond  the  hills  where  suns  go  down, 

O  Christ,  how  good  and  fair, 

O,  I  have  heard  His  voice. 

My  soul  is  like  some  fluttered  dove, 

Good-night  till  then. 

Let  me  go,  the  day  is  breaking, 

My  spirit  pines  for  home. 


AUTHOR.  PAGE. 

Mrs.  Anne  Steele.  491 

William  Cowper.  492 

From  the  Spanish.  493 

Charitie  Lees  Smith.  496 

From  the  Latin.  497 

From  the  German.  499 

HORATIUS  BONAR.  50I 

From  the  German.  502 

Charlotte  Elliott.  504 

Robert  C.  Chapman.  505 

From  the  German.  507 

James  Montgomery.  508 

Anonymous.  510 


PART  SEVENTH. 

WAITING  FOR  HEAVEN. 


Look  up  and  hope  on, 

I  stand  upon  the  river's  verge. 

The  road  is  so  lonesome  between. 

The  land  o'  the  leal. 

Beyond  the  smiling  and  the  weeping. 

Where    dost    thou    lie,    O    land    of 

peace, 
I'm  kneeling  at  the  threshold. 
The  land  where  my  nestlings  be. 
As   home   we   waft   from   our    alien 

shore. 
Lord,  the  waves   are   breaking   o'er 

me, 
Dropping  down  the  river. 
My  feet  are  worn  and  weary, 
My  ain  countrie, 
In  the  distance  looms  before  me, 
Footsteps  on  the  other  side. 
We  have  no  home  but  Heaven. 


Anonymous. 

513 

From  the  N.  Y.  Observer. 

514 

May  Riley  Smith. 

515 

Lady  Nairne. 

517 

HORATIUS  BONAR. 

519 

Anonymous. 

520 

Sunday  Magazine. 

522 

Jean  Ingelow, 

523 

Bishop  CoxE. 

525 

Hym.  of  the  Church  Militant. 

HORATIUS  BONAR. 

S.  Roberts. 
Mrs.  M.  A  Lee. 
Edwin  Griff. 


526 

528 
530 
531 
533 
534 
536 


XVIU 


TABLE   OF   CONTENTS. 


Not  now,  my  child, 

A  little  while  to  toil  along, 

Why  should  I  linger  here  ? 

One  day  nearer  home, 

The  prelibation  of  Heaven, 

My  God,  I  wait  for  Thee, 

Only  waiting. 

I've  been  thinking  of  home. 

Sitting  on  the  shore. 

The  golden  gates  appear. 

A  little  longer  yet, 

I  would  not  live  alway, 

Near  to  the  port, 

Ah,  this  heart  is  void  and  chill. 

Keep  me  not  here,  a  voice  is  calling, 

The  strange  surprise, 

O,  angel  of  the  land  of  peace, 

Longing  for  the  fatherland. 

Heart-sick  with  hope  deferred. 

My  spirit  waiting  stands, 

This   dark   world,   and    that    bright 

land. 
O  land  unknown,  in  thee  alone, 
When  shall  the  dawn  of  day, 
O  sweet  home-echo  on  the  pilgrim's 

way, 
My  task  is  o'er,  my  work  is  done. 
Day  of  the  beautiful,  arise,  awake. 
The  leaves  around  me  falling, 
Standing  on  the  headlands, 
O  what  a  glad  ascending, 
Up  to  that  world  of  light. 
When  I  am  over  Jordan, 
The  stranger  sea-bird. 
Ah  !  how  empty  is  the  heart, 
Heavenward  doth  our  journey  tend, 
A  city  yet  to  come, 
O  for  the  calm  beyond  the  storm, 
Glimpses  of  a  Heavenly  home, 


AUTHOR.                                           1 

PAGE. 

Dublin  Tract  Repository. 

537 

Banner  of  the  Covenant. 

539 

J.  Birch. 

540 

Anonymous. 

541 

Charles  Wesley. 

542 

Nathan  Colver. 

545 

546 

547 

Dinah  M.  M.  Craik. 

549 

550 

From  the  Christian  Register. 

■  550 

W.  A.  Muhlenburg. 

552 

Anonymous. 

554 

From  the  German. 

556 

George  Burrows. 

557 

Dwight  Williams. 

558 

Mrs.  C.  M.  Sawyer. 

560 

Marianne  Farningham. 

561 

Christina  G.  Rossetti. 

562 

Isaac  Watts. 

564 

565 

Samuel  W.  Duffield. 

566 

AnonymoIjs. 

567 

Mrs.  Huesser-Schweizer. 

569 

From  Parish  Musings. 

571 

Horatius  Bonar. 

572 

Henry  Francis  Lyte. 

573 

From  Leaves  Gathered. 

574 

Horatius  Bonar. 

576 

577 

Anonymous. 

578 

Horatius  Bonar. 

579 

P'rom  the  German. 

581 

From  Schmolk. 

582 

Horatius  Bonar. 

584 

Anonymous. 

585 

Anonymous. 

586 

TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


XIX 


No  shadows  yonder, 
As  when  the  traveller  gains. 
Here  in  the  body  pent. 
The  angel  at  the  gate, 

0  weary  halting  pilgrim, 
Christ,  let  me  come  to  thee. 

Lord  God,  now  open  wide  thy  heaven. 
When  at  last  the  hour  is  come, 
The  home  sickness, 
World,  farewell !  of  thee  I'm  tired, 
What    now   we   know   not    then    to 

know, 
A  few  more  years  shall  roll. 
There  may  we  our  treasure  place, 
The  sands  of  time  are  sinking. 
Wandering  down  life's  path, 

1  can  tarry  but  a  night, 

A  little  longer  still,  beloved. 


AUTHOR. 

PAGE. 

HORATIUS  BONAR. 

588 

John  Newton. 

589 

James  Montgomery. 

590 

C.  F.  Burrows. 

591 

Anonymous. 

592 

595 

From  the  German. 

597 

From  the  German. 

598 

HORATIUS  Bonar. 

600 

From  the  Gennan. 

602 

Anonymous. 

605 

HoRATius  Bonar. 

606 

James  Montgomery. 

608 

Samuel  Rutherford. 

609 

HoRATius  Bonar. 

612 

Mary  S.  B.  Dana. 

614 

Adelaide  A.  Proctor. 

615 

PART  EIGHTH. 
THE  WAY  TO  HEAVEN. 


No  !  no  !  it  is  not  dying. 
Come,  brothers,  let  us  onward. 
Homeward  in  song. 
Only  one  crossing  over, 
My  days  are  gliding  swiftly  by, 
Pilgrims,  on  !  the  day  is  dawning. 
So  near,  and  yet  so  far, 
The  undiscovered  country. 
Up  the  misty  stair  they  climb. 
Shall  we  gather  at  the  river? 
One  sweetly  solemn  thought, 
O  happy  pilgrims,  spotless  fair. 
It  is  told  me  I  must  die. 
Our  beloved  have  departed, 


From  the  German. 

619 

Gerhard  Terstegan. 

620 

622 

Anonymous. 

623 

David  Nelson. 

624 

Anonymous. 

625 

Lenthal. 

626 

From  the  Round  Table. 

627 

Adelaide  A.  Proctor. 

629 

631 

Phcebe  Gary. 

632 

633 

634 

Lange. 

636 

XX 


TABLE   OF  CONTENTS. 


Away  to  the  land  of  light. 

Call  it  a  peaceful  rest. 

Into  the  city  of  the  blest. 

The  sentry  by  the  portal, 

I'm  returning  not  departing, 

"When  for  eternal  worlds  1  steer. 

Through  the  cross  the  crown, 

Launch  thy  boat,  mariner, 

Wouldst     thou     inherit     life     with 

Christ  ? 
The  pearly  gates  ajar, 
Pilgrims  from  all  lands. 
The  road  is  short,  the  rest  is  long. 
With  steady  feet  they  press  along, 
Jesus,  guide  our  way, 
I  sail  to  the  land  of  the  blest, 
O'ercome  and  reign  with  me, 
There's  a  sound  of  feet  in  the  desert 

track, 
I'm  going  home, 
My  fatherland  is  yonder, 
I'm  but  a  stranger  here, 
Jesus  like  the  magnet  raises, 
Come  let  us  go  to  Heaven, 
To  Heaven  we  march  on. 
There  is  a  Reaper, 
Thus  I  take  my  pilgrimage, 
Come  let  us  lift  our  joyful  eyes, 
As  eager  traveller  to  the  goal. 
Come  let  us  our  journey  pursue. 
Brethren,  while  we  sojourn  here. 
The  weary  ones  rest,  forgetting  their 

woe. 
Know  ye  the  land  and  the  way? 
Come,  arise,  I  am  the  way. 
It  is  not  death  to  die. 
Thy  way,  not  mine, 
Jesus,  still  lead  on, 
Through  night  to  light, 


AUTHOR. 

PAGB. 

Marianne  Farningham. 

637 

s 

638 

639 

Thomas  McKellar. 

641 

HORATIUS  Bonar. 

642 

643 

From  the  German. 

644 

Caroline  Southey. 

645 

Simon  Dach. 

647 

Emily  C.  Judson. 

648 

Marshall  B.  Smith. 

649 

From  the  Gernian. 

652 

Marianne  Farningham. 

653 

Arthur  Tozer  Russel. 

654 

E.  D.  Jackson. 

655 

Thomas  H.  Gill. 

656 

Marianne  Farningham. 

658 

Anonymous. 

659 

From  Lyra  Germanica. 

661 

F.  R.  Taylor. 

664 

From  Spitta. 

665 

James  Montgomery. 

667 

James  Montgomery. 

668 

Henry  W.  Longfellow. 

669 

Sir  Walter  Raleigh. 

671 

Isaac  Watts. 

672 

Christina  G.  Rossetti. 

673 

Charles  Wesley. 

675 

676 

Marianne  Farningham. 

677 

From  the  German. 

678 

Thomas  B.  Read. 

679 

George  W.  Bethune. 

681 

HoRATius  Bonar. 

682 

From  the  German. 

683 

From  the  German. 

684 

TABLE  OF   CONTENTS. 


XXI 


AUTHOR. 

PACK. 

Is  this  the  way,  my  Father  ? 

686 

Song  of  the  silent  land, 

J.  G.  Von  Salis. 

687 

Does  the  road  wind  up  hill  all  the 

way? 

Christina  G.  Rossetti. 

688 

Pilgrims  of  every  land  and  clime, 

HORATIUS  BONAR. 

689 

Take  up  thy  cross  and  follow  me. 

691 

Through  death  to  life. 

Harbaugh. 

692 

PART  NINTH. 

MISCELLANEOUS. 

A  golden  string, 

W.  Blake. 

697 

In  some  hour  of  solemn  jubilee, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

698 

Jesus  ray  hope  of  Heaven. 

698 

Daybreak, 

R.  H.  Dana. 

700 

Come  to  me,  dreams  of  Heaven, 

Mrs.  Felicia  Hemans. 

703 

On  this  side  Sion's  hill. 

704 

The  Christian's  home. 

707 

The  spirit  gleams, 

Sarah  L.  Russell. 

709 

That  beautiful  world. 

710 

Christ  in  Heaven. 

711 

Saints  communing. 

E.  H.  Bickersteth. 

711 

Degrees  in  Heaven, 

E.  H.  Bickersteth. 

713 

Paradise  in  a  symbol. 

Christina  G.  Rossetti. 

715 

The  land  to  which  I'm  going. 

717 

They  are  not  dead. 

718 

The  charmer. 

Mrs.  H.  B.  Stowe. 

720 

The  Alpine  shepherd, 

Mrs.  Maria  Lowell. 

722 

View  of  Heaven, 

E.  H.  Bickersteth. 

723 

Desiring  Heaven, 

L.  Hartsough. 

725 

Dreams  of  Heaven, 

Mrs  F.  D.  Hemans. 

727 

Employment  in  Heaven, 

E.  H.  Bickersteth. 

729 

Entering  Heaven. 

730 

Epitome  of  Heaven, 

E.  H.  Bickersteth. 

730 

Estimate  of  Heaven, 

James  Shirley. 

731 

Land  in  sight. 

732 

ih 


NATURE    OF    HEAVEN. 


We  have  a  building  of  God,  a  house  not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the 
heavens. — a  Cor.  5:1. 

Eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard  neither  have  entered  into  the  heart  of  man, 
the  things  which  God  hath  prepared  for  them  that  love  him. — 1  Cor.  3  :  9. 

In  my  Father's  house  are  many  mansions :  if  it  were  not  so  I  would  have  told 
you.     I  go  to  prepare  a  place  for  you. — John  14  :  a. 

I  will  that  they  also  whom  thou  hast  given  me,  be  with  me,  where  I  am,  that 
they  may  behold  my  glory.— John  17  :  24. 


NATURE  OF  HEAVEN, 


EVERLASTING  LIGHT. 


William  Cowper. 


HEAR  what  God  the  Lord  hath  spoken 
"  O  my  people,  faint  and  few, 
■^Comfortless,  afflicted,  broken, 
Fair  abodes  I  build  for  you  ; 
Thorns  of  heartfelt  tribulation 

Shall  no  more  perplex  your  ways ; 

You  shall  name  your  walls  Salvation, 

And  your  gates  shall  all  be  Praise. 

**  There,  like  streams  that  feed  the  gard^en 

Pleasures  without  end  shall  flow  ; 
For  the  Lord,  your  faith  rewarding. 

All  His  bounty  shall  bestow; 
Still  in  undisturbed  possession 

Peace  and  righteousness  shall  reign, 
Never  shall  you  feel  oppression. 

Hear  the  voice  of  war  again. 

'*  Ye,  no  more  your  sun's  descending, 
Waning  moons  no  more  shall  see. 

But,  your  griefs  forever  ending, 
Find  eternal  noon  in  me  ; 


HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


God  shall  rise,  and,  shining  o'er  you, 
Change  to  day  the  gloom  of  night  ; 

He,  the  Lord,  shall  be  your  glory, 
God  your  Everlasting  Light." 


ONWARD  INTO  LIGHT. 


Richard  Chenevix  Trknch. 


OUR  course  is  onward,  onward  into  light ;    a 
What  though  the  darkness  gathereth  amain  ? 
Yet  to  return  or  tarry,  both  are  vain. 
How  starry,  when  around  us  thick  is  night  ? 
Whither  return  ?  What  flower  yet  ever  might, 
In  days  of  gloom,  and  cold,  and  stormy  rain. 
Enclose  itself  in  its  green  bud  again. 
Hiding  from  wrath  of  tempest  out,  of  sight  ? 

Courage  !  we  travel  through  a  darksome  cave  ; 
But  still,  as  nearer  to  the  light  we  draw, 
Fresh  gales  will  meet  us  from  the  upper  air, 

And  wholesome  dews  of  heaven  our  foreheads  lave, 
The  darkness  lighten  more,  till  full  of  awe 
We  stand  in  the  free  sunshine,  unaware. 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN. 


MY  NATIVE  LAND. 


From  the  Spanish,  by  H.  W.  Longfellow. 


CLEAR  fount  of  light !  my  native  land  on  high, 
Bright  with  a  glory  that  shall  never  fade  ! 
Mansion  of  Truth  !  without  a  veil  or  shade, 
Thy  holy  quiet  meets  the  spirit's  eye. 
There  dvv^ells  the  soul  in  its  ethereal  essence, 
Gasping  no  longer  for  life's  feeble  breath  ; 
But  sentinelled  in  Heaven,  its  glorious  presence 
With  pitying  eye  beholds,  yet  fears  not  death. 
Beloved  country  !  banished  from  thy  shore, 
A  stranger  in  this  prison-house  of  clay. 
The  exiled  spirit  weeps  and  sighs  for  thee  ! 
Heavenward  the  bright  perfections  I  adore 
Direct,  and  the  sure  promise  cheers  the  way, 
That  whither  my  love  aspires,  there  shall  my  dwelling  be. 


MY  COUNTRY'S  LOVELINESS. 


From  the  Latin  of  Casimir,  by  R.  C.  Trench. 


I 


T  kindles  all  my  soul, 
My   Country's  loveliness  !     Those  starry 
choirs 
That  watch  around  the  pole. 
And  the  moon's  tender  light,  and  heavenly  fires 
Through  golden  halls  that  roll. 


HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

O,  chorus  of  the  night !  O,  planets,  sworn 

The  music  of  the  spheres 
To  follow  !  Lovely  watchers,  that  think  scorn 

To  rest  till  day  appears  ! 
Me,  for  celestial  homes  of  glory  born, 

Why  here,  oh  why  so  long 
Do  ye  behold  an  exile  from  on  high  ? 

Here,  oh  ye  shining  throng, 
With  lilies  spread  the  mound  where  I  shall  lie 

Here  let  me  drop  my  chain. 
And  dust  to  dust  returning,  cast  away 

The  trammels  that  remain  ; 
The  rest  of  me  shall  spring  to  endless  day. 


HEAVEN  OF  HEAVENS. 


Edmund  Spenser. 

LOOK  thou  no  further,  but  affixe  thine  eye 
On  that  bright  shynie,  round,  still  moving  masse, 
The  house  of  blessed  God,  which  men  call  skye, 
All  sowed  with  glistering  stars  more  thicke  than  grasse, 
Whereof  each  other  doth  in  brightnesse  passe. 
But  those  two  most  which,  ruling  night  and  daye, 
As  king  and  queene,  the  heaven's  empire  sway. 

And  tell  me  then,  what  hast  thou  ever  scene 
That  to  their  beautie  may  compared  bee  ? 

Or  can  the  sight  that  is  most  sharpe  and  keene 
Endure  their  Captain's  flaming  head  to  see? 
How  much  lesse  those  much  higher  in  degree, 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN. 

And  so  much  fairer,  and  much  more  than  these, 
As  these  are  fairer  than  the  land  and  seas  ? 

For  farre  above  those  heavens  which  here  we  see 
Be  others  farre  exceeding  these  in  Hght  ; 

Not  bounded,  not  corrupt,  as  these  same  bee, 
But  infinite  in  largenesse,  and  in  height, 
Unmoving,  uncorrupt,  and  spotlesse  bright. 

That  need  no  sunne  t'  illuminate  their  spheres, 

But  their  own  native  light  farre  passing  theirs. 

And  as  these  heavens  still  by  degrees  arize, 
Until  they  come  to  their  first  Mover's  bound, 

That  in  his  mightie  compasse  doth  comprize, 
And  Carrie  all  the  rest  with  him  around  ; 
To  those  likewise,  doe  by  degrees  redound, 

And  rise  more  faire,  till  they  at  last  arrive 

To  the  most  faire,  whereto  they  all  do  strive. 

Faire  is  the  Heaven,  where  happy  souls  have  place 

In  full  enjoyment  of  felicitie, 
Whence  they  doe  still  behold  the  glorious  face 

Of  the  Divine  Eternall  Maiestie  ; 

More  faire  is  that,  where  those  Idees  on  hie 
Enraunged  bee,  which  Pluto  so  admyred, 
And  pure  Intelligences  from  God  inspyred. 


HEAVEN    IN    SONG. 


HERE  AND  THERE. 


J.  p.  Lange. 


WHAT  no  human  eye  hath  seen, 
What  no  mortal  ear  hath  heard, 
What  on  thought  has  never  been 

In  its  noblest  flights  conferred — 
This  has  God  prepared  in  store 
For  His  people  evermore  I 

When  the  shaded  Pilgrim-land 
Fades  before  my  closing  eye, 

Then  revealed  on  either  hand, 

Heaven's  own  scenery  shall  lie  ; — 

Then  the  veil  of  flesh  shall  fall, 

Now  concealing,  darkening  all. 

Heavenly  landscapes,  calmly  bright, 
Life's  pure  river,  murmuring  low; 

Forms  of  loveliness  and  light 
Lost  to  earth  long  time  ago ; 

Yes,  mine  own  lamented  long. 

Shine  amid  the  angel  throng ! 

Many  a  joyful  sight  was  given 
Many  a  lovely  vision  here — 

Hill,  and  vale,  and  starry  even, 

Friendship's  smile, — affection's  tear; 

These  were  shadows  sent  in  love, 

Of  realities  above  ! 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN. 

When  upon  my  weaned  ear 
Earth's  last  echoes  faintly  die, 

Then  shall  angel-harps  draw  near, — 
All  the  chorus  of  the  sky  ; 

Long-hushed  voices  blend  again 

Sweetly  in  that  welcome  strain  ! 

Here,  were  sweet  and  varied  tones — 
Bird,  and  breeze,  and  fountain's  fall; 

Yet  creation's  travail-groans 
Ever  sadly  sighed  through  all. 

There  no  discord  jars  the  air — 

Harmony  is  perfect  There  ! 

When  this  aching  heart  shall  rest, 

All  its  busy  pulses  o'er, 
From  her  mortal  robes  undrest 

Shall  my  spirit  upward  soar. 
Then  shall  unimagined  joy 
Ail  my  thoughts  and  powers  employ. 

Here,  devotion's  healing  balm, 
Often  comes  to  soothe  my  breast. 

Hours  of  deep  and  holy  calm — 
Earnests  of  eternal  rest. 

But  the  bliss  is  here  unknown. 

Which  shall  There  be  all  my  own  ! 

Jesus  reigns,  the  Life,  the  Sun 
Of  that  wondrous  world  above  ; 

All  the  storms  and  clouds  are  gone, 
All  is  light,  and  all  is  love  ; 

All  the  shadows  melt  away 

In  the  blaze  of  perfect  day! 


HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 


THE  DWELLING-PLACE  ABOVE. 


Bishop    Mant. 


THERE  is  a  dwelling-place  above; 
Thither,  to  meet  the  God  of  love, 
The  poor  in  spirit  go ; 
There  is  a  paradise  of  rest ; 
For  contrite  hearts  and  souls  distrest 
Its  streams  of  comfort  flow. 

There  is  a  goodly  heritage, 

Where  earthly  passions  cease  to  rage ; 

The  meek  that  haven  gain. 
There  is  a  board,  where  they  who  pine, 
Hungry,  athirst,  for  grace  divine, 

May  feast,  nor  crave  again. 

There  is  a  voice  to  mercy  true ; 
To  them  who  mercy's  path  pursue 

That  voice  shall  bliss  impart — 
There  is  a  sight  from  man  concealed, 
That  sight — the  face  of  God  revealed — 

Shall  bless  the  pure  in  heart. 

There  is  a  name,  in  Heaven  bestowed, 

That  name,  which  hails  them  "  Sons  of  God." 

The  friends  of  peace  shall  know: 
There  is  a  kingdom  in  the  sky, 
Where  they  shall  reign  with  God  on  high, 
Who  serve  him  best  below. 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN. 

Lord,  be  mine  like  them  to  choose 
The  better  part, — like  them  to  use 

The  means  Thy  love  hath  given. 
Be  holiness  my  aim  on  earth, 
That  Death  be  welcome  as  a  birth 

To  Hfe  and  bliss  in  Heaven  ! 


THE  GOODLY  LAND. 


Mrs.  Anne  Steele. 


FAR  from  these  narrow  scenes  of  night 
Unbounded  glories  rise. 
And  realms  of  infinite  delight, 
Unknown  to  mortal  eyes. 

Far  distant  land  !  could  mortal  eyes 

But  half  its  joys  explore, 
How  would  our  spirits  long  to  rise 

And  dwell  on  earth  no  more  ! 

There,  pain  and  sickness  never  come, 

And  grief  no  more  complains  ; 
Health  triumphs  in  immortal  bloom — 
And  endless  pleasure  reigns. 

From  discord  free,  and  war's  alarms, 

And  want,  and  pining  care. 
Plenty  and  peace,  unite  thsir  charms, 

And  smile  unchanging  There. 

1* 


lO  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

There,  rich  varieties  of  joy, 
Continual  feast  the  mind  ; 

Pleasures  which  fill,  but  never  cloy — 
Immortal  and  refined! 

No  factious  strife,  no  envy  there, 
The  sons  of  peace  molest ; 

But  harmony,  and  love  sincere 
Fill  every  happy  breast. 

No  clouds  those  blissful  regions  know, 
Forever  bright  and  fair  ! 

For  sin,  the  source  of  mortal  woe. 
Can  never  enter  There. 

There,  no  alternate  night  is  known, 
Nor  sun's  faint  sickly  ray ; 

But  glory,  from  the  Sacred  Throne 
Spreads  everlasting  day. 

The  glorious  Monarch  There  displays 

His  beams  of  wondrous  grace  ; 
His  happy  subjects  sing  His  praise, 
And  bow  before  His  face. 

Oh,  may  the  heavenly  prospect  fire 
Our  hearts  with  ardent  love, 

Till  wings  of  faith  and  strong  desire 
Bear  every  thought  above. 

Prepare  us.  Lord,  by  grace  divine, 
For  Thy  bright  courts  on  high  ; 

Then  bid  our  spirits  rise  and  join, 
The  chorus  of  the  sky ! 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  II 


YON  BRIGHT  WONDER-LAND. 


From  Schiller,  by  A.  C   Kendrick. 


FROM  this  vale,  with  mists  hung  over, 
With  eternal  storms  oppressed, 
Could  I  but  a  path  discover, 

Ah,  how  deeply  were  I  blest  ! 
Clothed  in  bloom  that  ne'er  shall  wither, 

Yonder  hills  allure  my  eye  ; 
Give  me  wings,  and  quickly  thither, 
O,  how  quickly  would  I  fly ! 

There  melodious  murmurs  ringing, 

Breathe  a  deep,  a  heavenly  calm  ; 
And  the  gentle  winds  are  winging 

Richest  spices'  fragrant  balm. 
Fruits  of  golden  hue  are  glowing, 

Which  the  dark  green  leaves  embower ; 
And  the  flowers  that  there  are  blowing 

Feel  no  iron  Winter's  power. 

O,  how  sweet  to  dwell  and  wander 

Where  the  sun-light  gushes  free  ! 
Balmy  airs  that  wanton  yonder, 

O,  how  soothing  must  they  be ! 
But  before  that  wondrous  dwelling 

Doth  this  angry  torrent  roll  ; 
And,  in  wrathful  surges  swelling. 

Spreads  dismay  through  all  my  soul. 


12  HEAVEN    IN    SONG. 

Lo  !  yon  rocking  bark  appearing  ! 

But,  alas  !  the  oarsman  fails  ; 
Cheerly  in  then,  never  fearing; 

Breath  of  heaven  inspires  the  sails. 
Thou  must  trust,  and  tJiou  must  venture ; 

Heaven  will  pledge  no  helping  hand ; 
Wondrous  might  alone  can  enter 

Into  yon  bright  wonder-land. 


HOW  CAN  WE  KNOW  THE  WAY?" 


The   following  is  the  translation  of  the  foregoing  of  Schiller,  by  Sir  Edward 
BuLWER  Lytton. 


FROM  out  this  dim  and  gloomy  hollow. 
Where  hang  the  cold  clouds  heavily. 
Could  I  but  gain  the  clue  to  follow, 
How  blessed  would  the  journey  be ! 

Aloft,  I  see  a  fair  dominion. 

Through  time  and  change,  all  vernal  still ; 
But  where  the  power,  and  what  the  pinion. 

To  gain  the  ever-blooming  hill? 

Afar,  I  hear  the  music  ringing. 

The  lulling  sounds  of  Heaven's  repose; 

And  the  light  gales  are  downward  bringing 
The  sweets  of  flowers  the  mountain  knows. 

1  see  the  fruit,  all  golden  glowing, 

Beckon,  the  glossy  leaves  between  : — 

And  o'er  the  winds  that  there  are  blowing. 
Nor  bliirht  nor  winter's  wrath  hath  been. 


NATURE    OF   HEAVEN.  I3 

Ye  suns  that  shine  forever  yonder, 

O'er  fields  that  fade  not,  sweet  to  flee ; 

The  very  zephyrs  there  that  wander, 
How  heahng  must  their  breathing  be  ! 


NONE  IN  HEAVEN  BUT  THEE. 


Sir  Robert  Grant. 


LORD  of  earth  !  thy  bounteous  hand 
Well  this  glorious  frame  hath  planned ; 
Woods  that  wave,  and  hills  that  tower. 
Ocean  rolHng  in  his  power, 
All  that  strikes  the  gaze  unsought, 
All  that  charms  the  lonely  thought ; — 
Friendship, — gem  transcending  price, 
Love,  a  flower  of  Paradise ; — 
Yet,  amid  this  scene  so  fair, 
Should  I  cease  Thy  smile  to  share, 
What  were  all  its  joys  to  me  ? 
**  Whom  have  I  in  Heaven  but  Thee  ?  " 

Lord  of  Heaven  !  beyond  our  sight 
Rolls  a  world  of  purer  light ; 
There,  in  Love's  unclouded   reign, 
Parted  hands  shall  join  again  ; 
Martyrs  there,  and  prophets  high, 
Blaze,  a  glorious  company  ; — 
While  immortal  music  rings 
From  unnumbered  seraph  strings ; 


14  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

Oh  that  scene  is  passing  fair  ! 

Yet  shouldst  Thou  be  absent  there 

What  were  all  its  joys  to  me  ? 

"  Whom  have  I  in  Heaven  but  Thee  ! " 

Lord  of  earth  and  Heaven  !  my  breast 
Seeks  in  Thee  its  only  rest ; 
I  was  lost — Thy  accents  mild 
Homeward  lured  Thy  wandering  child  ; 
I  was  blind — Thy  healing  ray 
Charmed  the  long  eclipse  away ; 
Source  of  every  joy  I  know, 
Solace  of  my  every  woe  ; 
Yet  should  once  Thy  smile  divine 
Cease  upon  my  soul  to  shine, 
What  were  Heaven  on  earth  to  me  ? 
"  Whom  have  I  in  Heaven  but  Thee  ?" 


SONNET  TO  HEAVENLY  BEAUTY. 


Du  Bellay,  1550. 


IF  this  our  Httle  life  is  but  a  day 
In  the  Eternal, — if  the  years  in  vain 
Toil  after  hours  that  never  come  again,— 
If  everything  that  hath  been  must  decay, 
Why  dreamest  thou  of  joys  that  pass  away, 
My  soul,  that  my  sad  body  doth  restrain  ? 
Why  of  the  moment's  pleasure  art  thou  fain  ? 
Nay,  thou  hast  wings, — nay,  seek  another  stay. 


NATURE    OF   HEAVEN.  I 5 

There  is  the  joy  whereto  each  soul  aspires, 
And  there  the  rest  that  all  the  world  desires, 
And  there  is  love  and  peace  and  gracious  mirth  ; 
And  there  in  the  most  highest  heaven  shalt  thou 
Behold  the  Very  Beauty,  whereof  now 
Thou  worshippest  the  shadow  upon  earth. 


NO  NIGHT  SHALL  BE  IN  HEAVEN. 


Thomas  Raffles. 


NO  night  shall  be  in  Heaven, — no  gathering  gloom 
Shall  o'er  that  glorious  landscape  ever  come  ; 
No  tears  shall  fall  in  sadness  o'er  those  flowers 
That  breathe  their  fragrance  through  celestial  bowers. 

No  night  shall  be  in  Heaven, — no  dreadful  hour 
Of  mental  darkness,  or  the  tempter's  power  ; — 
Across  those  skies  no  envious  cloud  shall  roll, 
To  dim  the  sunlight  of  the  enraptured  soul. 

"No  night  shall  be  in  Heaven.     Forbid  to  sleep, 
These  eyes  no  more  their  mournful  vigils  keep  ; 
Their  fountains  dried,  their  tears  all  wiped  away, 
Their  gaze  undazzled  on  Eternal  Day. 

No  night  shall  be  in  Heaven, — no  sorrows  reign, 
No  secret  anguish,  no  corporeal  pain, 
No  shivering  limbs,  no  burning  fever  there — 
No  soul's  eclipse,  no  winter  of  despair. 


l6  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

No  night  shall  be  in  Heaven, — but  endless  noon  ; 
No  fast-declining  sun,  nor  waning  moon  ; 
But  There  the  Lamb  shall  yield  perpetual  light, 
'Mid  pastures  green,  and  waters  ever  bright. 

No  night  shall  be  in  Heaven, — no  darkened  room, 
No  bed  of  death,  nor  silence  of  the  tomb; 
But  breezes  ever  fresh  with  love  and  truth 
Shall  brace  the  frame  with  an  immortal  youth ! 

No  night  shall  be  in  Heaven.     But  night  is  here — 
The  night  of  sorrow  and  the  night  of  fear; 
I  mourn  the  ills  that  now  my  steps  attend, 
And  shrink  from  others  that  may  yet  impend. 

No  night  shall  be  in  Heaven.     Oh,  had  I  faith, 
To  rest  in  what  the  Faithful  Witness  saith. 
That  faith  should  make  these  hideous  phantoms  flee, 
And  leave  no  night  henceforth  on  earth  to  me ! 


NO  GRAVES  ARE  THERE. 


R.   A.   Rhebs. 


'^  "'VrO  graves  are  there,'' 
--i^^     No  willow  weeps  above  the  grassy  bed 
Where  sleeps  the  young,  the  fondly  loved,  the  fair. 
The  early  dead  ! 


NATURE    OF   HEAVEN.  1 7 

No  funeral  knell 
Blends  with  the  breeze  of  spring  its  mournful  tone, 
Bidding  henceforth  the  balmy  breezes  tell 

Of  loved  ones  gone. 

O'er  the  cold  brow 
No  bitter  tears  of  agony  are  shed  ; 
None  o'er  the  still,  pale  form,  in  anguish  bow, 

Whence  life  has  fled. 

"  No  graves  are  there," 
Nor  sunny  slope,  green  turf,  or  quiet  grot, 
Those  sad  mementoes  of  departure  bear, 
.For  death  is  not. 

That  fearful  foe  ! 
Here,  ever  bearing  from  us  those  we  love, 
Resistless  as  his  power  is  owned  below, 

Has  none  above. 

No  !  in  the  tomb 
Ends  his  dominion  ; — there  his  power  is  o'er, 
And  they  who  safely  tread  its  path  of  gloom 

Shall  die  no  more  ! 

"  No  graves  are  there  ;  " 
Father,  we  thank  thee  that  there  is  a  clime 
Guarded  alike  from  death,  and  grief,  and  care. 

Untouched  by  Time. 

We  praise  Thy  name 
That  from  the  dust  and  darkness  of  the  tomb 
We  can  look  up  in  faith,  and  humbly  claim 

Our  future  home. 


I  8  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

Hasten  the  day 
When,  passing  death's  dark  vale  without  a  fear, 
We,  as  we  reach  that  heavenly  home,  may  say 

No  graves  are  here  ! 


ATTRACTIONS  OF  HEAVEN, 


N' 


O  sickness  There — 
No  weary  wasting  of  the  frame  away, 
No  fearful  shrinking  from  the  midnight  air, 
No  dread  of  summer's  bright  and  fervid  ray  ! 


No  hidden  grief, 
No  wild  and  cheerless  vision  of  despair ; 
No  vain  petition  for  a  swift  relief, 
No  tearful  eye,  no  broken  heart  are  There ! 

Care  has  no  home 
Within  that  realm  of  ceaseless  praise  and  song ; 
•Its  surging  billows  toss  and  melt  in  foam. 
Far  from  the  mansions  of  the  spirit-throng. 

The  storm's  black  wing 
Is  never  spread  athwart  celestial  skies  ; 
Its  wailings  blend  not  with  the  voice  of  Spring, 
As  some  too  tender  floweret  fades  and  dies. 

No  night  distils 
Its  chilling  dews  upon  the  tender  frame  ; 
No  morn  is  needed  There  !  the  light  which  fills 
The  land  of  glory,  from  its  Maker  came. 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  I9 

No  parted  friends 
O'er  mournful  recollections  have  to  weep — 
No  bed  of  death — enduring  love  attends, 
To  watch  the  coming  of  a  pulseless  sleep  ! 

No  withered  flower, 
Or  blasted  bud,  celestial  gardens  know  ! 
No  scorching  blast  or  fierce  descending  shower 
Scatters  destruction  like  a  ruthless  foe. 

No  battle-word 
Startles  the  sacred  hosts  with  fear  and  dread  ; 
The  song  of  Peace,  Creation's  morning  heard. 
Is  sung  wherever  angel  footsteps  tread ! 

Let  us  depart, 
If  home  like  this  await  the  weary  soul! 
Look  up,  thou  stricken  one  !    Thy  wounded  heart 
Shall  bleed  no  more  at  sorrow's  stern  control. 

With  Faith  our  guide. 
White-robed  and  innocent,  to  tread  the  way, — 
Why  fear  to  plunge  in  Jordan's  rolling  tide, 
And  find  the  Haven  of  eternal  day  ? 


20  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


ALLUREMENTS  OF  HEAVEN. 


E.  H.  BiCKERSTETH. 


THUS   Heaven   is  gathering,  one   by 
capacious  breast, 

All  that  is  pure  and  permanent,  and  beautiful  and  blest ; 

The  family  is  scattered  yet,  though  of  one  home  and 
heart. 

Part  militant  in  earthly  gloom,  in  heavenly  glory  part ; 

But  who  can  tell  the  rapture,  when  the  circle  is  com- 
plete. 

And  all  the  children,  scattered  now,  before  the  Father 
meet  ? 

One  fold — one  Shepherd — one  employ — one  universal 
home  I 

"  Lo,  r  come  quickly.**    Even  so — **  Amen — Lord  Jesus, 
come  !" 


REUNION. 


Bishop  Mant. 


I  COUNT  the  hope  no  day-dream  of  the  mind, 
No  vision  fair,  of  transitory  hue, — 
The  souls  of  those  whom  once  on  earth  we  knew 
And  loved,  and  walked  with,  in  communion  kind. 
Departed  hence,  again  in  Heaven  to  find  ! 
Such  hope  to  nature's  sympathies  is  true  ; 
And  such,  we  deem,  the  holy  word  to  view 
Unfolds,  an  antidote  for  grief  designed  ; 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  21 

One  drop  from  comfort's  well.     'Tis  true  we  read 
The  book  of  life  ;  but  if  we  read  it  not  amiss, 

By  God  prepared,  fresh  treasures  shall  succeed, 
To  kinsmen,  fellows,  friends,  a  vast  abyss 

Of  joy,  nor  aught  the  longing  spirit  need 
To  fill  its  measure  of  enormous  bliss ! 


KNOW  AS  WE  ARE  KNOWN. 


Bishop  Ken. 


THE  saints  on  earth,  when  sweetly  they  converse, 
And  the  dear  favors  of  kind  Heaven  rehearse, 
Each  feels  the  other's  joys,  both  doubly  share 
The  blessings  which  devoutly  they  compare. 
If  saints  such  mutual  joy  feel  here  below. 
When  they  each  other's  heavenly  foretastes  know, — 
What  joys  transport  them  at  each  other's  sight. 
When  they  shall  meet  in  the  empyrean  height  ! 
Friends  e'en  in  Heaven  one  happiness  would  miss. 
Should  they  not  know  each  other,  when  in  bliss. 


THE  MEETING-PLACE. 


HORATIUS    BONAR. 


WHERE  the  faded  flower  shall  freshen- 
Freshen  never  more  to  fade  ; 
Where  the  faded  sky  shall  brighten — 
Brighten  never  more  to  shade  ; 


22  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

Where  the  sun-blaze  never  scorches, 

Where  the  starbeams  cease  to  chill ; 
Where  no  trumpet  stirs  the  echoes 

Of  the  wood,  or  wave,  or  hill ; 
Where  the  morn  shall  wake  in  gladness, 

And  the  noon  the  joy  prolong  ; 
Where  the  daylight  dies  in  fragrance, 

'Mid  the  burst  of  holy  song  ; — 
Brother,  we  shall  meet  and  rest 
*Mid  the  holy  and  the  blessed  ! 

Where  no  shadow  shall  bewilder, 

Where  life's  vain  parade  is  o'er, 
Where  the  sleep  of  sin  is  broken, 

And  the  dreamer  dreams  no  more  ; 
Where  the  bond  is  never  severed, — 

Partings,  claspings,  sobs  and  moans, 
Midnight  waking,  twilight  weeping, 

Heavy  noon-tide, — all  are  done. 
Where  the  child  has  found  its  mother, 

Where  the  mother  finds  her  child  ; 
Where  dear  families  are  gathered, 

That  were  scattered  on  the  wild  ; — 
Brother,  we  shall  meet  and  rest 
'Mid  the  holy  and  the  blessed  ! 

Where  the  hidden  wound  is  healed. 
Where  the  blighted  life  reblooms, 

Where  the  smitten  heart,  the  freshness 
Of  its  buoyant  youth  resumes  ; 

Where  the  love  that  here  we  lavish 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  23 

On  the  withering  leaves  of  Time, 
Shall  have  fadeless  flowers  to  fix  on, 

In  an  ever  spring-bright  clime  ; 
Where  we  find  the  joy  of  loving 

As  we  never  loved  before — 
Loving  on  unchilled,  unhindered, 

Loving  once,  and  never  more  ! 
Brother,  we  shall  meet  and  rest 
'Mid  the  holy  and  the  blessed ! 

Where  a  blasted  world  shall  brighten. 

Underneath  a  bluer  sphere  ; 
And  a  softer,  gentler  sunshine 

Sheds  its  healing  splendor  There  ; 
Where  earth's  barren  vales  shall  blossom. 

Putting  on  her  robes  of  green, 
And  a  purer,  fairer  Eden 

Be  where  only  wastes  have  been, — 
Where  a  King,  in  kingly  glory. 

Such  as  earth  has  never  known, 
Shall  assume  the  Righteous  Sceptre, 

Claim  and  wear  the  holy  crown  ; — 
Brother,  we  shall  meet  and  rest 
'Mid  the  holy  and  the  blessed  ! 


24  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


THE  LAND  OF  WHICH  I  DREAM. 


HORATIUS     BONAR. 


SURELY  yon  Heaven,  where  angels  see  God's  face, 
Is  not  so  distant  as  we  deem 
From  this  low  earth  ! — 'Tis  but  a  little  space, 
The  narrow  crossing  of  a  slender  stream  ; — 
'Tis  but  a  mist  which  winds  might  blow  aside. 
Yes,  these  are  all  that  us  of  earth  divide 
From  the  bright  dwellings  of  the  glorified  ; — 
The  Land  of  which  I  dream. 

These  peaks  are  nearer  Heaven  than  earth  below, 

These  hills  are  higher  than  they  seem  ; 
'Tis  not  the  clouds  they  touch,  nor  the  soft  brow 

Of  the  o'erbending  azure,  as  we  deem: 
'Tis  the  blue  floor  of  Heaven  that  they  upbear, 
And,  like  some  old  and  wildly  rugged  stair, 
They  lift  us  to  the  land  where  all  is  fair, — 
The  Land  of  which  I  dream. 

These  ocean  waves,  in  their  unmeasured  sweep, 

Are  brighter,  bluer  than  they  seem ; 
True  image  here  of  the  celestial  deep, 

Fed  from  the  fullness  of  the  unfailing  stream ; 
Heaven's  glassy  sea  of  everlasting  rest, 
With  not  a  breath  to  stir  its  silent  breast, 
The  sea  that  laves  the  land  where  all  are  blest, — 

The  Land  of  which  I  dream. 


NATURE    OF    HEAVEN.  2$ 

And  these  keen  stars,  the  bridal  gems  of  night, 

Are  purer,  lovelier  than  they  seem ; 
Filled  from  the  inner  fountain  of  deep  light, 

They  pour  down  Heaven's  own  beam  ; 
Clear,  sparkling,  from  their  throne  of  glorious  blue, 
In  accents  ever  ancient,  ever  new. 
Of  the  glad  home  above,  beyond  my  view, — 

The  Land  of  which  I  dream. 

This  life  of  ours,  these  lingering  years  of  earth, 

Are  briefer,  swifter,  than  they  seem  ; 
A  little  while,  and  the  great  second  birth 

Of  Time  shall  come, — the  prophet's  ancient  theme. 
Then  He,  the  King,  the  Judge,  at  length  shall  come, 
And  from  this  desert,  where  we  sadly  roam. 
Shall  give  the  Kingdom,  for  our  endless  home, — 

The  Land  of  which  I  dream. 


MORE  BLEST  THAN  EDEN. 


Bishop  Coxe. 


THERE  is  a  land  like  Eden  fair. 
But  more  than  Eden  blest ; 
The  wicked  cease  from  troubling  There, 
The  weary  are  at  rest. 

There  is  a  land  of  calmest  shore, 
Where  ceaseless  summers  smile, 

And  winds,  like  angel-whispers,  pour 
Across  the  shining  isle. 

2 


26  HEAVEN  IN  SONG. 

There  is  a  land  of  purest  mirth, 
Where  heaHng  waters  glide  ; 

And  There,  the  wearied  child  of  earth 
Untroubled  may  abide. 

There  is  a  land  where  Sorrow's  sons 
Like  ocean  wrecks  are  tossed ; 

But  There  revive  those  weeping  ones, 
When  life's  dull  sea  is  crossed. 

There  is  a  land  where  small  and  great 

Before  the  Lord  appear  ; 
The  spoils  of  fortune  and  of  fate, 

Whom  heaven  alone  can  cheer. 

There  is  a  land  where  star-like  shine 
The  pearls  of  Christ's  renown  ; 

And  gems  long  buried  in  the  mine 
Are  jewels  in  His  crown. 

There  is  a  land  like  Eden  fair, 
But  more  than  Eden  blest ; 

Oh,  for  a  wing  to  waft  me  There, 
To  fly,  and  be  at  rest ! 


NATURE  OF  HEAVEN.  2/ 


HIS  THRONE  AND  TEMPLE. 


W.  A.  Muhlenberg. 


SINCE  o'er  thy  footstool  here  below 
Such  radiant  gems  are  strewn, 
Oh,  what  magnificence  must  glow, 

My  God,  about  Thy  throne  ! 
So  brilliant  here  those  drops  of  light — 
Where  the  full  ocean  rolls,  how  bright! 

If  night's  blue  curtain  of  the  sky, 

With  thousand  stars  inwrought, 
Hung  like  a  glittering  canopy 

With  royal  diamonds  fraught. 
Be,  Lord,  Thy  temple's  outer  veil 
What  splendor  at  the  shrine  must  dwell! 

The  dazzling  sun,  at  noontide  hour. 

Forth  from  his  flaming  vase 
Flinging  o'er  earth  the  golden  shower 

Till  vale  and  mountain  blaze, — 
But  shows,  O  Lord,  one  beam  of  Thine, 
What,  then,  the  Day,  where  Thou  dost  shine ! 

Oh,  how  shall  these  dim  eyes  endure 

That  noon  of  living  rays  ; 
Or  how  my  spirit,  so  impure. 

Upon  thy  glory  gaze  ? 
Anoint,  O  Lord,  anoint  my  sight, 
And  robe  me  for  that  world  of  light ! 


28  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


TO  BE  THERE! 


Elizabeth  Mills. 


WE  Speak  of  the  realms  of  the  blest, 
Of  that  country  so  bright  and  so  fair- 
And  oft  are  its  glories  confessed, 
But  what  must  it  be  to  be  There ! 

We  speak  of  its  pathways  of  gold, 

Of  its  walks  decked  with  jewels  so  rare. 

Of  its  wonders  and  pleasures  untold — 
But  what  must  it  be  to  be  There ! 

We  speak  of  its  freedom  from  sin, 
From  sorrow,  temptation,  and  care. 

From  trials  without  and  within — 
But  what  must  it  be  to  be  There ! 

We  speak  of  its  service  of  love, 

Of  the  robes  which  the  glorified  wear, 

Of  the  Church  of  the  First-born  above — 
But  what  must  it  be  to  be  There ! 

Do  Thou,  Lord,  midst  sorrow  and  woe 
Still  for  Heaven  our  spirits  prepare  ; 

And  shortly  we  also  shall  know. 
And  feel  what  it  is  to  be  There ! 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  29 


THE  OTHER  WORLD. 


Mrs.   H.   B.    Stowe. 


IT  lies  around  us  like  a  cloud, — 
A  world  we  do  not  see ; 
Yet  the  sweet  closing  of  an  eye 
May  bring  us  There  to  be  ! 

Its  gentle  breezes  fan  our  cheek ; 

Amid  our  worldly  cares 
Its  gentle  voices  whisper  love, 

And  mingle  with  our  prayers. 

Sweet  hearts  around  us  throb  and  beat, 
Sweet  helping  hands  are  stirred, — 

And  palpitates  the  veil  between 
With  breathings  almost  heard  ; 

The  silence — awful,  sweet,  and  calm — 
They  have  no  power  to  break ; 

For  mortal  words  are  not  for  them 
To  utter  or  partake. 

So  thin,  so  soft,  so  sweet  they  glide, 
So  near  to  press  they  seem, — 

As  fain  to  lull  us  to  our  rest, 
And  melt  into  our  dream. 


30  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

And  in  the  hush  of  rest  they  bring, 

'Tis  easy  now  to  see 
How  lovely  and  how  sweet  a  pass 

The  hour  of  death  may  be. 

To  close  the  eye,  and  close  the  ear, 
Wrapped  in  a  trance  of  bliss, 

And  gently  dream,  in  loving  arms 
To  swoon  to  That — from  this. 

Scarce  knowing  if  we  wake  or  sleep, 
Scarce  asking  where  we  are, — 

To  feel  all  evil  sink  away. 
All  sorrow  and  all  care. 

Sweet  souls  around  us !  watch  us  still. 

Press  nearer  to  our  side. 
Into  our  thoughts — into  our  prayers 

With  gentle  helpings  glide. 

Let  Death  between  us  be  as  naught — 
A  dried  and  vanished  stream  ; 

Our  joy,  be  the  reality — 

Our  suffering — life,  the  dream. 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  3 1 


HEAVEN  NEAR. 


Mrs.  Mary  J.  Robinson. 


OH,  Heaven  is  nearer  than  mortals  think, 
When  they  look  with  a  trembling  dread 
At  the  misty  future,  that  stretches  on 
From  the  silent  home  of  the  dead. 

'Tis  no  lone  isle  in  a  boundless  main, 
No  brilliant,  but  distant  shore, 
Where  the  lovely  ones  who  are  called  away 
Must  go,  to  return  no  more. 

No,  Heaven  is  near  us  ; — the  mighty  veil 
Of  mortality  blinds  the  eye, 
That  we  see  not  always  the  angel  bands 
On  the  shores  of  Eternity. 

Yet  oft,  in  the  hours  of  holy  thought, 

To  the  thirsting  soul  is  given 

That  power  to  pierce  through  the  mist  of  sense, 

To  the  beauteous  scenes  of  Heaven. 

Then  very  near  seem  its  pearly  gates, 
And  sweetly  its  harpings  fall ; 
Till  the  soul  is  restless  to  soar  away, 
And  longs  for  the  angels'    call. 


32  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

I  know  when  the  silver  cord  is  loosed. 
When  the  veil  is  rent  away, 
Not  long  and  dark  shall  the  passage  be 
To  the  realms  of  endless  day. 

The  eye  that  shuts  in  a  dying  hour 

Will  open  the  next  in  bliss  ; 

The  welcome  will  sound  in  the  heavenly  world 

Ere  the  farewell  is  hushed  in  this. 


THE  VOICEFUL     LAND. 


C.  H.  A.  BULKLBY. 


'  Into  the  Silent  Land 
Ah  !  who  shall  lead  us  thither  ?  "—Longfellmv. 

5T^IS  not  a  Silent  Land  ! 

A     Tones  of  harmonic  spheres. 
Heard  not  by  mortal  ears, 
Thither  their  echoes  roll 
Into  the  answering  soul ; 

Oh  !  *tis  a  Voiceful  Land  ! 

'Tis  not  a  Silent  Land, 
Voices  of  angel-throngs 
Rain  down  their  chorus-songs 
Over  ethereal  hills, 
'Till  the  rapt  spirit  thrills; 

Oh  !  'tis  a  Voiceful  Land  ! 


NATURE   OF  HEAVEN.  33 

'Tis  not  a  Silent  Land  ! 
Harps,  with  their  golden-strings, 
Dipped  as  in  music-springs, 
Swept  by  the  touch  of  love. 
Ring  in  the  realms  above  ! 

Oh  !  'tis  a  Voiceful  Land  I 

'Tis  not  a  Silent  Land ! 
Footsteps  of  spirits  sound 
All  through  the  air  profound, 
Gently  as  wind-tones  make 
Ripples  on  stream  and  lake ; 

Oh  !  'tis  a  Voiceful  Land  ! 

'Tis  not  a  Silent  Land ! 
Ever  celestial  wings, 
Bathed  in  the  amber-springs 
Deep  of  God's  ocean  light, 
Fan  the  swift  paths  of  flight ; 

Oh  !  'tis  a  Voiceful  Land  ! 

'Tis  not  a  Silent  Land ! 
Psalm-breaths  of  joy  arise. 
Pulsing  through  inner  skies, 
When  the  sin-child  returns 
Whither  Truth's  incense  burns ; 

Oh  !  'tis  a  Voiceful  Land  ! 

'Tis  not  a  Silent  Land  ! 
Hosts  of  the  pure  and  true, 
Shouts  of  delight  renew 


34  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Round  the  beloved,  fled 
Far  from  the  speechless  dead ; 
Oh  !  'tis  a  Voiceful  Land  ! 

'Tis  not  a  Silent  Land ! 
Welcomes  divine  are  given, 
Whene'er,  death's  fetters  riven, 
Holy  ones  evermore 
Step  on  the  better  shore ; 

Oh  !  'tis  a  Voiceful  Land  ! 

'Tis  not  a  Silent  Land ! 
Far  from  the  song-wrapt  throne 
Peals  the  unchanging  tone, 
Keying  all  notes  above, 
To  the  unisons  of  love  ! 

Oh  !  'tis  a  Voiceful  Land  ! 


HEAVEN'S  JOYS. 


Thomas  a'Kempis — 1380-1471. 


HIGH  the  angel  choirs  are  raising 
Heart  and  voice  in  harmony; 
The  Creator  King,  still  praising, 
Whom  in  beauty  there  they  see. 

Sweetest  strains  from  soft  harps  stealing ; 
Trumpets,  notes  of  triumph  pealing; 
Radiant  wings,  and  white  stoles  gleaming, 
Up  the  steps  of  glory  streaming  ; 


NATURE    OF   HEAVEN.  35 

Where  the  heavenly  bells  are  ringing  ; 
Holy,  holy,  holy !  singing — • 

To  the  mighty  Trinity  ! 
Holy,  holy,  holy!  crying; 
For  all  earthly  care  and  sighing 

In  that  city  cease  to  be ! 


Every  voice  is  there  harmonious, 
Praising  God  in  hymns  symphonious ; 
Love  each  heart  with  light  unfolding, 
As  they  stand  in  peace  beholding 

There  the  Triune  Deity ! 
Whom  adore  the  seraphim 

Aye,  with  love  eternal  burning ; 
Venerate  the  cherubim, 

To  their  Fount  of  honor  turning; 

Whilst  angelic  thrones  adoring, 
Gaze  upon  His  majesty. 

O  how  beautiful  that  region  ! 
And  how  fair  that  heavenly  legion. 

Where  thus  men  and  angels  blend ! 
Glorious  will  that  city  be, 
Full  of  deep  tranquillity, 

Light  and  peace  from  end  to  end ! 
All  the  happy  dwellers  there 

Shine  in  robes  of  purity. 

Keep  the  laws  of  charity. 

Bound  in  firmest  unity  ; — 
Labor  finds  them  not,  nor  care. 


36  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Ignorance  can  ne'er  perplex, 
Nothing  tempt  them,  nothing  vex  ; — 
Joy  and  health  their  fadeless  blessing, 
Always  all  things  good  possessing ! 


THE    INCORRUPTIBLE. 


HORATIUS     BONAR. 


NO  joy  is  true,  save  that  which  hath  no  end  ; 
No  life  is  true,  save  that  which  liveth  ever ; 
No  health  is  sound,  save  that  which  God  doth  send ; 
No  love  is  real,  save  that  which  changeth  never. 

Heaven  were  no  heaven,  if  its  dear  light  could  fade  ; 

If  its  fair  glory  could  hereafter  wane  ; 
If  its  sweet  skies  could  suffer  stain  or  shade, 

Or  its  soft  breezes  waft  one  note  of  pain. 

But  now  its  beauty  is  forever  vernal ; 

Its  glory  is  the  glory  of  its  King, 
Undying,  incorruptible,  eternal ; 

And  ever  new  the  song  its  dwellers  sing. 

O  heaven  of  heavens,  how  true  thy  life  must  be ! 

O  home  of  God,  how  excellent  thy  light ! 
O  long,  long  Summer  of  eternity, 

Bright  noon  of  angels,  ever  clear  and  bright ! 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  37 


THERE  SHALL  BE  NO  MORE  SEA. 


Marianne  Farningham. 


ALL  day  sigh  on  the  shore  the  surging  billows 
That  steal  with  greedy  lips  our  joys  away  ; 
All  night  roll  on  the  ever-shifting  pillows 

On  which  the  weary  breathe  their  lives  alway. 

Awhile  the  waves  are  bright  with  flashing  sunlight, 
There  are  dark  silent  graves  far,  far  below ; 

And  while  they  darkly  toss,  'mid  gloom  of  midnight, 
Our  treasures  heavily  beneath  them  go. 

We  are  not  safe !     The  foe  too  near  us  glideth, 

Serenely,  silently,  insidiously  ; 
And  all  the  safeguards  passionate  love  provideth 

It  sweeps  from  clinging  grasps  relentlessly. 

All  round  the  island  of  our  lives  it  surges, 
Enwraps  us  closely — there  is  no  escape  ; 

And  while  the  syren's  voice  our  ruin  urges. 
The  restless  billows  far  beneath  us  gape. 

Thus  rolls  the  sea  of  care  and  sorrow  ever 
Above  our  very  hearts,  close  to  our  homes ; 

We  deprecate  its  rule  with  vain  endeavor. 
The  heavy  roaring  wave  still  nearer  comes. 


38  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

"  There  shall  be  no  more  sea''     O,  golden  city, 
The  loved,  the  longed  for,  the  eternal  blest ; 

The  waves  shall  touch  not  those  who  have  God's  pity, 
In  thy  fair  homes  of  perfect  peace  and  rest. 

*'  There  shall  be  no  more  sea."     O  God,  our  Father, 
When  sorrow's  waters  beat  us  ceaselessly, 

Help  us  to  bear  the  grief  till  thou  shalt  gather 
Thy  loved,  thy  cared  for,  where  is  no  more  sea. 


LIFE'S    QUESTIONS. 


Henry  Alford. 


DRIFTING  away 
Like  mote  on  the  stream, 
To-day's  disappointment 

Yesterday's  dream ; 
Ever  resolving — 

Never  to  mend — 
Such  is  our  progress ; 
Where  is  the  end  ? 

Whirling  away 

Like  leaf  in  the  wind  ; 
Points  of  attachment 

Left  daily  behind  ; 
Fixed  to  no  principle, 

Fast  to  no  friend — 
Such  our  fidelity; 

Where  is  the  end  ? 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  39 

Floating  away 

Like  clouds  on  the  hill, 
Pendulous,  tremulous, 

Migrating  still ; 
Where  to  repose  ourselves? 

Whither  to  tend? 
Such  our  consistency ; 

Where  is  the  end  ? 

Crystal  the  pavement, 

Seen  through  the  stream ; 
Firm  the  reality 

Under  the  dream. 
We  may  not  feel  it, 

Still  we  may  mend — 
How  we  have  conquered 

Not  known  till  the  end. 

Bright  leaves  may  scatter, 

Sport  of  the  wind  ; 
But  stands  to  the  winter 

The  great  tree  behind. 
Frost  shall  not  wither  it, 

Storms  cannot  bend  ; 
Roots  firmly  clasping 

The  Rock  at  the  end. 

Calm  is  the  firmament 

Over  the  cloud ; 
Clear  shine  the  stars  through 

The  rifts  of  the  shroud. 


40  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

There  our  repose  shall  be ; 

Thither  we  tend — 
Spite  of  our  waverings, 

Approved  at  the  end. 


TALK  TO  ME  OF  HEAVEN. 


Mrs.    SOUTHEV. 


OH  !  talk  to  me  of  heaven  !     I  love 
To  hear  about  my  home  above  ; 
For  there  doth  many  a  loved  one  dwell 
In  light  and  love  ineffable. 
Oh !  tell  how  they  shine  and  sing, 
While  every  harp  rings  echoing, 
And  every  glad  and  tearless  eye 
Beams,  like  the  bright  sun,  gloriously. 
Tell  me  of  that  victorious  palm 

Each  hand  in  glory  beareth  ; 
Tell  me  of  that  celestial  calm 

Each  face  in  glory  weareth. 

Oh!  happy,  happy  country !  where 

There  entereth  not  a  sin ; 
And  death,  who  keeps  its  portals  fair, 

May  never  once  come  in. 
No  grief  can  change  their  day  to  night— 
The  darkness  of  that  land  is  light. 
Sorrow  and  sighing  God  has  sent 
Far  thence  to  endless  banishment. 


NATURE   OF  HEAVEN.  4 1 

And  never  more  may  one  dark  tear 

Bedim  their  burning  eyes ; 
For  every  one  they  shed  while  here, 

In  cheerless  agonies, 
Glitters  a  bright  and  dazzling  gem, 
In  their  immortal  diadem. 

Oh  !  lovely,  blooming  country  !  there 
Flourishes  all  that  we  deem  fair, 
And  though  no  fields  nor  forests  green. 
Nor  bowery  gardens  there  are  seen, 

Nor  perfumes  load  the  breeze, 
Nor  hears  the  ear  material  sound. 
Yet  joys  at  God's  right  hand  are  found — 

The  archetypes  of  these. 
There  is  the  home,  the  land  of  birth 
Of  all  we  highest  prize  on  earth  ; 
The  storms  that  rack  this  world  beneath — 

Must  forever  cease ; 
The  only  air  the  blessed  breathe 

Is  purity  and  peace. 

Oh !  happy,  happy  land  !  in  thee 

Shines  the  unveiled  Divinity, 

Shedding  through  each  adoring  breast 

A  holy  calm,  a  halcyon  rest. 

And  those  blessed  souls,  whom  death  did  sever, 

Have  met  to  mingle  joys  forever. 

Oh  !  soon  may  Heaven  unclose  to  me ! 

Oh  !  may  I  soon  that  glory  see  ! 

And  my  faint,  weary  spirit  stand 

Within  that  happy,  happy  land ! 


42  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 


THE  WITNESS  OF  EARTH  TO  HEAVEN. 


Thomas  B.  Gill. 


WHAT  sweetness  on  Thine  Earth  doth  dwell ! 
How  precious,  Lord,  these  gifts  of  thine ! 
Yet  sweeter  messages  they  tell, 
These  earnests  of  delisht  divine. 


'fc>' 


Yes  !  glory  out  of  glory  breaks, 
More  than  the  gift  itself  is  given  : 

Each  gift  a  glorious  promise  makes ; 
Thine  earth  does  prophesy  of  Heaven. 

These  mighty  hills  we  joy  to  climb, 
These  happy  streams  we  wander  by, 

Reveal  the  Eternal  Hills  sublime, — 
Of  God's  own  river  prophesy. 

These  odors  blest,  these  gracious  flowers. 
These  sweet  sounds  that  around  us  rise. 

Give  tidings  of  the  Heavenly  Bowers, 
Prelude  the  Angelic  Harmonies. 

These  vernal  hours — what  news  they  bring  ! 

What  tidings  these  bright  summers  tell ! 
They  fore-announce  the  Eternal  Spring, 

Foreshow  the  Light  Ineffable. 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  43 

And  in  these  gracious  ones  so  dear, 

These  just  souls  that  our  souls  make  strong, 

We  feel  the  holy  angels  near, 

We  mingle  with  the  Blissful  Throng. 

O  mercies  kindly  incomplete  ! 

Dear  joys  our  hearts  that  may  not  fill ! 
Strange  grace !  that  in  Thy  gifts  most  sweet 

We  read  of  gifts  diviner  still. 

Lord  !  from  Thy  gifts  to  Thee  we  rise  ; 

But  with  more  strength  we  soar  above 
Upon  these  glorious  prophecies, 

These  earnests  of  Thy  dearer  love. 


DOWN    BELOW,  AND   UP  ABOVE. 


Dublin  University  Magazine, 


DOWN  below,  the  wild  November  whistling 
Through  the  beech's  dome  of  burning  red, 
And  the  Autumn,  sprinkling  penitential 
Dust  and  Ashes  on  the  chestnut's  head. 

Down  below,  a  pall  of  airy  purple, 

Darkly  hanging  from  the  mountain- side. 

And  the  sunset  from  his  eyebrow  staring 
O'er  the  long  roll  of  the  leaden  tide. 


44  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Up  above — the  Tree  with  leaf  unfading, 

By  the  everlasting  River's  brink, 
And  the  Sea  of  Glass,  beyond  whose  margin 

Never  yet  the  sun  was  known  to  sink. 

Down  below,  the  white  wings  of  the  sea-bird 
Dashed  across  the  furrows,  dark  with  mould, 

Flitting,  like  the  memories  of  our  childhood, 
Through  the  trees,  now  waxen  pale  and  old. 

Down  below,  imaginations  quivering 

Through  our  human  spirits,  like  the  wind ; 

Thoughts,  that  toss,  like  leaves  about  the  woodland, 
Hopes,  like  sea-birds,  flashed  across  the  mind. 


Up  above — the  host  no  man  can  number. 
In  white  robes,  a  palm  in  every  hand, 

Each  some  work  sublime  forever  working 
In  the  spacious  tracts  of  that  Great  Land. 

Up  above — the  thoughts  that  know  not  anguish, 
Tender  care,  sweet  love  for  us  below. 

Noble  pity,  free  from  anxious  terror, 
Larger  love,  without  a  touch  of  woe. 

Down  below,  a  sad,  mysterious  music. 

Wailing  through  the  woods,  and  on  the  shore. 

Burdened  with  a  grand  majestic  secret. 
That  keeps  sweeping  from  us  evermore. 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  45 

Up  above — a  music  that  entwineth 

With  eternal  threads  of  golden  sound, 
The  great  poem  of  this  strange  existence, 

All  whose  wondrous  meaning  hath  been  found. 

Down  below,  the  church,  to  whose  poor  window 

Glory  by  the  autumnal  trees  is  lent, — 
And  a  group  of  worshippers  in  mourning, 

Missing  some  one  at  the  sacrament. 

Up  above — the  burst  of  Hallelujah, 

And  (without  the  sacramental  mist 
Wrapped  around  us,  like  a  sunlit  halo,) 

The  great  vision  of  the  face  of  Christ. 

Down  below,  cold  sunlight  on  the  tombstones, 
And  the  green  wet  turf,  with  faded  flowers. 

Winter-roses,  once  like  young  hopes  burning 
Now  beneath  the  ivy  dripped  with  showers. 

And  the  new-made  grave,  within  the  churchyard, 
And  the  white  cap  on  that  young  face  pale, 

And  the  watcher,  ever  as  it  dusketh. 
Rocking  to  and  fro,  with  that  long  wail. 

Up  above, — a  crowned  and  happy  spirit, 

Like  an  infant  in  the  eternal  years, — 
Who  shall  grow  in  love  and  light  forever, 

Ordered  in  his  place,  among  his  peers. 


46  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Oh,  the  sobbing  of  the  winds  of  autumn  ! 

Oh,  the  sunset  streak  of  stormy  gold  ! 
Oh,  the  poor  heart !  thinking  in  the  churchyard 

Night  is  coming,  and  the  grave  is  cold ! 


Oh,  the  pale,  and  plashed,  and  sodden  roses ! 

Oh,  the  desolate  heart,  that  grave  above ! 
Oh  the  white  cap,  shaking  as  it  darkens 

Round  that  shrine  of  memory  and  love  ! 

Oh,  the  Rest  forever,  and  the  rapture ! 

Oh,  the  Hand  that  wipes  the  tears  away ! 
Oh,  the  golden  Homes,  beyond  the  sunset, — 

And  the  Hope,  that  watches  o'er  the  clay ! 


"SOON  AND  forever; 


J.  S.  MONSELL. 


SOON  and  forever ! 
Such  promise  our  trust, 
Though  ''ashes  to  ashes 
And  dust  to  dust," — 
Soon,  and  forever. 

Our  union  shall  be 
Made  perfect,  our  glorious 
Redeemer,  in  Thee. 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  4/ 

When  the  sins  and  the  sorrows 

Of  Time  shall  be  o'er, 
Its  pangs  and  its  partings 

Remembered  no  more  ! 
When  life  cannot  fail, 

And  when  death  cannot  sever, 
Christians  with  Christ  shall  be 

Soon  and  forever ! 


Soon  and  forever 

The  breaking  of  day- 
Shall  drive  all  the  night-clouds 

Of  sorrow  away ; 
Soon  and  forever 

We'll  see  as  we're  seen, 
Ard  learn  the  deep  meaning 

Of  things  that  have  been  ; 
When  trials  without  us. 

And  fears  from  within, 
Shall  weary  no  more 

In  the  warfare  of  sin  ; 
Where  tears  and  where  snares, 

And  where  death  shall  be  never, 
Christians  with  Christ  shall  be 

Soon  and  forever. 


Soon  and  forever 

The  work  shall  be  done — 
The  warfare  accomplished, 

The  victory  won  ! 


48  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Soon,  and  forever, 

The  soldier  lay  down 
His  sword  for  a  harp. 

And  his  cross  for  a  crown. 
Then  droop  not  in  sorrow. 

Despond  not  in  fear, 
A  glorious  to-morrow 

Is  brightening  and  near ! 
When,  blessed  reward 

Of  each  faithful  endeavor, 
Christians  with  Christ  shall  be 

Soon  and  forever ! 


THE  GATES  OF  THE  CELESTIAL  CITY. 


I  SEE  them  far  away, 
In  their  calm  beauty  on  the  evening  skies ; 
Across  the  golden  west,  their  summits  rise 

Bright  with  the  radiance  of  departing  day. 
And  often  ere  the  sunset  light  was  gone, 
Gazing  and  longing,  I  have  hastened  on, 
As  with  new  strength,  all  weariness  and  pain 
Forgotten,  in  the  hope  those  blissful  heights  to  gain 

Heaven  lies  not  far  beyond  ; — 
But  then  these  hills  of  earth — our  changeful  air 
Circles  around  them,  and  the  dwellers  there 

Still  own  mortality's  mysterious  bond. 


NATURE    OF   HEAVEN.  49 

The  ceaseless  contact,  the  continued  strife 

Of  sin  and  grace,  which  can  but  close  with  life. 

Is  not  yet  ended,  and  the  Jordan's  roar 

Still  lies  between  their  path  and  the  Celestial  shore. 

Courage,  poor  fainting  heart ! 
These  happy  ones,  in  the  far  distance  seen. 
Were  sinful  wanderers  once,  as  thou  hast  been, 

Weary  and  sorrowful,  as  now  thou  art. 
Linger  no  longer  on  the  lonely  plain — 
Press  boldly  onward — and  thou  too  shalt  gain 
Their  vantage-ground  ;  and  then,  with  vigor  new, 
All  thy  remaining  race  and  pilgrimage  pursue. 


ETERNITAS  !     ETERNITAS ! 


From  the  Latin,  by  C.  F.  Coxe. 


ETERNITY!     Eternity! 
How  long  art  thou,  Eternity? 
Yet  onward  still  to  thee  we  speed, 
As  to  the  fight  the  impatient  steed, 
As  ship  to  port,  or  shaft  to  bow, 
Or  swift  as  couriers  homeward  go. 
Mark  well,  O  man,  Eternity ! 

Eternity !     Eternity ! 
How  long  art  thou,  Eternity? 
As  in  a  ball's  concentric  round 
Nor  starting-point  nor  end  is  found, 
3 


50  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

So  thou,  Eternity  so  vast, 
No  entrance  and  no  exit  hast. 
Mark  well,  O  man.  Eternity ! 

Eternity !     Eternity ! 
How  long  art  thou.  Eternity? 
Came  there  a  bird  each  thousandth  year, 
One  sand-grain  from  the  hills  to  bear, 
When  all  had  vanished,  grain  by  grain, 
Eternity  would  still  remain. 
Mark  well,  O  man.  Eternity ! 


HEAVEN  AT  LAST. 


ANGEL  voices  sweetly  singing, 
Echoes  through  the  blue  dome  ringing, 
News  of  wondrous  gladness  bringing  ; 
Ah,  'tis  heaven  at  last  ! 

Now,  beneath  us  all  the  grieving. 
All  the  wounded  spirit's  heaving, 
AH  the  woe  of  hopes  deceiving; 

Ah,  'tis  heaven  at  last ! 

Sin  forever  left  behind  us, 
Earthly  visions  cease  to  blind  us. 
Fleshly  fetters  cease  to  bind  us ; 

Ah,  'tis  heaven  at  last ! 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  5 1 

On  the  jasper  threshold  standing, 
Like  a  pilgrim  safely  landing, 
See  the  strange  bright  scene  expanding  ! 
Ah,  'tis  heaven  at  last ! 

What  a  city !  what  a  glory ! 
Far  beyond  the  brightest  story 
Of  the  ages  old  and  hoary ; 

Ah,  'tis  heaven  at  last ! 

Christ  himself  the  living  splendor, 
Christ  the  sunlight  mild  and  tender ; 
Praises  to  the  Lamb  we  render ; 

Ah,  'tis  heaven  at  last ! 


AT    HOME. 


H.  B.  Collins. 


AT  home.     For  thou  hast  reached, 
At  length,    thro'  wearying   toils   and    sighs   and 
pains, 
The  far-off  shore  our  faith  so  dimly  sees. 
Looking  thro'  tears.     The  pearly  gates,  flung  wide 
To  welcome  thee,  are  passed  ;  the  threshold  crossed  ; 
Of  thine  own  mansion — one  of  the  "  many,"  full  pre- 
pared 
And  waiting  to  receive  thee.     Blessed  state  ! 
The  long-sought  rest!  the  higher,  purer  life 


52  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Fraught  with  celestial  good,  and  all  secure 

From  every  ill.     Secure,  for  round  thee  now 

The  walls  of  heaven's  eternal  city  rise  ! 

Her  golden  streets  and  gorgeous  palaces 

Thronged  with  glad  millions,  who  nor  day  nor  night 

Hush  the  loud  chorus  of  Redeeming  Love — 

Her  stately  towers  and  gUttering  domes  and  spires 

Gleaming  on  high  in  heaven's  eternal  light  ; 

And  birds  of  Paradise,  and  fruits  and  flowers, 

And  trees  immortal  on  the  sunny  banks 

Of  living  waters — all  are  before  thee,  round  thee, 

All  are  thine ;  angels  thy  company  ;  and  God, 

Father  of  all,  adored  of  all,  glory  of  all, 

Even  God  is  thine. 


"I  SHALL  BE  SATISFIED." 


From  the  Congregationalist. 


NOT    here !    not    here !  not    where    the    sparkling 
waters 
Fade  into  mocking  sands  as  we  draw  near  ; 
Where  in  the  wilderness  each  footstep  falters — 
I  shall  be  satisfied — but  oh  !  not  here. 

Not  here  !  where  every  dream  of  bliss  deceives  us, 
Where  the  worn  spirit  never  gains  its  goal  : 

Where,  haunted  ever  by  the  thoughts  that  grieve  us, 
Across  us  floods  of  bitter  memory  roll. 


NATURE    OF   HEAVEN.  53 

There  is  a  land  where  every  pulse  is  thrilling 
With  rapture  earth's  sojourners  may  not  know, 

Where  Heaven's  repose  the  weary  heart  is  stilling 
And.  peacefully  life's  time-tossed  currents  flow. 

Far  out  of  sight,  while  yet  the. flesh  infolds  us, 
Lies  the  fair  country  where  our  hearts  abide, 

And  of  its  bliss  is  nought  more  wondrous  told  us, 
Than  these  few  words,  "  I  shall  be  satisfied." 

Satisfied  !  satisfied  !     The  spirit's  yearning 

For  sweet  companionship  with  kindred  minds — 

The  silent  love  that  here  meets  no  returning — 
The  inspiration  which  no  language  finds — 

Shall  they  be  satisfied  ?  the  soul's  vague  longing — 
The  aching  void  which  nothing  earthly  fills  ? 

O  !  what  desires  upon  my  soul  are  thronging 
As  I  look  upward  to  the  heavenly  hill. 

Thither  my  weak  and  weary  steps  are  tending — 
Saviour  and  Lord  !  with  Thy  frail  child  abide  ! 

Guide  me  toward  home,  where  all  my  wanderings  end- 
ing, 
I  then  shall  see  Thee,  and  "  be  satisfied." 


54  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


THE  ETERNAL  SMILE. 


Henry  Kirk  Whitb. 


HAIL  !  the  heavenly  scenes  of  peace, 
Where  all  the  storms  of  passions  cease; 
Wild  life's  dismaying  struggle  o'er, 
The  wearied  spirit  weeps  no  more, 

But  wears  the  eternal  smile  of  joy 
Attaining  bliss  without  alloy  ! 
Welcome,  welcome,  happy  bowers. 
Where  no  passing  tempest  lowers ; 

Where  the  azure  heavens  display 
The  everlasting  beams  of  day  ; 
Where  the  radiant  seraph  choirs 
Pour  their  strain  from  golden  lyres ; 

Where  calm  the  spirit  sinks  to  ease 

Lulled  by  angelic  symphonies  ! 

O,  then  to  think  of  meeting  there 

The  friends  whose  grave  received  our  tear ! 

The  child  long  lost,  the  wife  bereaved, 
Back  to  the  widowed  arms  received  ; 
And  all  the  joys  which  death  did  sever, 
Given  to  us  again  forever ! 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  55 

O  Lamb  of  God,  by  sorrow  proved 
The  Friend  of  man,  the  Christ  beloved, 
To  Thee  this  sweetest  hope  we  owe 
Which  warms  our  shivering  hearts  below. 


JUST   BEYOND. 

WEARY  life  we  live  below ; 
Shadows  dim  the  sunlight  so ! 
There's  a  Home  of  endless  rest 
Waiting  for  the  ransomed  blest, 
Just  beyond. 

Desert  thirst  oppresses  here, 
Yearning  for  a  better  sphere  ; 
There  the  crystal  waters  flow  ; 
Precious  ^'  fulness"  we  shall  know, 
Just  beyond. 

Death  will  meet  us  here  below ; 
Through  **  dark  waters"  we  must  go. 
Soon  our  anguish  will  be  o'er ; 
Jesus  standeth  on  the  shore, 
Just  beyond ! 


$6  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


LIGHT  AND  LOVE. 


Alice  Cary. 


LIGHT  waits  for  us  in  heaven  :  Inspiring  thought ! 
That  when  the  darkness  all  is  overpast, 
The  beauty  which  the  Lamb  of  God  has  bought 

Shall  flow  about  our  saved  souls  at  last, 
And  wrap  them  from  all  night-time  and  all  woe : 
The  Spirit  and  the  Word  assure  us  so. 

Love  lives  for  us  in  heaven  ;  Oh,  not  so  sweet 

Is  the  May  dew  which  the  mountain  flowers  inclose, 

Nor  golden  raining  of  the  winnowed  wheat. 
Nor  blushing  out  of  the  brown  earth,  of  rose, 

Or  whitest  lily,  as,  beyond  time's  wars, 

The  silvery  raising  of  these  two  twin  stars  ! 


THE  LAND  OF  PEACE. 


Marianne  Farningham. 


THERE  breathes  no  sigh  from  those  calm  hearts  in 
that  abode  of  peace. 
The  home  of  all  the  happy,  where  the  sorrow  all  shall 

cease  ; 
No  harsh  heart-breaking  words  are  heard,  for  the  lips 

are  love-tinged  there, 
In  the  land  of  all  the  beautiful,  the  perfect,  and  the 
fair. 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  57 

There  falls  no  pain  upon  the  heart,  where  sickness 
cannot  come, 

No  shrieks  of  agony  are  wrung  within  that  blissful 
home  ; 

Cool  on  the  fevered  spirit  falls  the  soothing  music- 
tone, 

And  the  brow  has  no  more  sign  of  pain,  in  that  blessed 
world  unknown. 

No  rough  winds  blow  across  the  waves  of  that  bright 

glassy  sea  ; 
There  the  timid  ones  are  safe  at  home,  in  the  dwelling 

of  the  free  ; 
Life's  fearful  journey  over,  they  are  resting  now,  at 

last, 
And  the  spirits  sing  a  grateful  song  that  the  troublous 

times  are  past. 

Oh,    Father,  pity  us,  who  weep    along   the  wayside 

drear, 
And  bring  us  also  to  that  land,  with  the  holy  and  the 

dear ; 
Guide  thou  us  to  the  home  of  love,  to  the  blessed  land 

of  peace, 
Where  our  tears  forever  wiped  away — our   fears  and 

bondage  cease. 


58  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


DIES  ILLA,  DIES  VITAE. 


A  Hymn  of  the  lath  Century. 


LO  !  the  day,  the  day  of  life,  the  day  of  unimagined 
light, 
The  day  when  death  itself  shall  die,  and  there  shall  be 

no  more  night. 
Steadily  that  day  approacheth  when  the  just  shall  find 

their  rest, 
When  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling,  and  the  patient 
reign  most  blest. 

See  the  King  desired  for  ages,  by  the  just  expected 

long ; 
Long  implored,   at  length   He  hasteth,  cometh  with 

salvation  strong. 
Oh,  how  past  all  utterance  happy,  sweet  and  joyful  it 

will  be 
When  they  who,  unseen,  have  loved  Him,  jESUS  face 

to  face  shall  see. 

In  that  day  how  good  and  pleasant,  this  poor  world  to 
have  despised  ; 

And  how  mournful  and  how  bitter,  dear  that  lost 
world  to  have  prized  : 

Blessed  then  earth's  patient  mourners,  who  for  CHRIST 
have  toiled  and  died, 

Driven  by  the  world's  rough  pressure  in  those  man- 
sions to  abide. 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  59 

There  shall  be  no  sighs  nor  weeping,  not  a  shade  of 
doubt  or  fear, 

No  old  age,  no  want,  nor  sorrow,  nothing  sick  or  lack- 
ing there : 

There  the  peace  will  be  unbroken,  deep  and  solemn 
joy  be  shed ; 

Youth  in  fadeless  flower  and  freshness,  and  Salvation 
perfected. 

What  will  be  the  bliss  and  rapture  none  can  dream  and 
none  can  tell. 

There  to  reign  among  the  Angels,  in  that  Heavenly- 
home  to  dwell. 

To  those  realms,  just  Judge,  oh  call  me,  deign  to  open 
that  blest  gate, 

Thou  whom  seeking,  looking,  longing,  I  with  eager 
hope  await. 


PARADISE:  IN  A  DREAM, 


Christina  G.  Rossetti. 


ONCE  in  a  dream  I  saw  the  flowers 
That  bud  and  bloom  in  Paradise  ; 
More  fair  they  are  than  waking  eyes 
Have  seen  in  all  this  world  of  ours. 
And  faint  the  perfume-bearing  rose. 

And  faint  the  lily  on  its  stem, 
And  faint  the  perfect  violet 
Compared  with  them. 


HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

I  heard  the  songs  of  paradise : 

Each  bird  sat  singing  in  his  place ; 
A  tender  song  so  full  of  grace 

It  soared  like  incense  to  the  skies. 

Each  bird  sat  singing  to  his  mate 
Soft  cooing  notes  among  the  trees  * 

The  nightingale  herself  were  cold 
To  such  as  these. 

I  saw  the  fourfold  River  flow, 

And  deep  it  was,  with  golden  sand  ; 
It  flowed  between  a  mossy  land 

Which  murmured  music  grave  and  low. 

It  hath  refreshment  for  all  thirst, 

For  fainting  spirits  strength  and  rest : 

Earth  holds  not  such  a  draught  as  this 
From  east  to  west. 

The  Tree  of  Life  stood  budding  there, 
Abundant  with  its  twelvefold  fruits ; 
Eternal  sap  sustains  its  roots, 

Its  shadowing  branches  fill  the  air. 

Its  leaves  are  healing  for  the  world, 
Its  fruit  the  hungry  world  can  feed, 

Sweeter  than  honey  to  the  taste 
And  balm  indeed. 

I  saw  the  gate  called  Beautiful ; 

And  looked,  but  scarce  could  look,  within 

I  saw  the  golden  streets  begin, 
And  outskirts  of  the  glassy  pool. 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  6l 

Oh  harps,  oh  crowns  of  plenteous  stars, 

Oh  green  palm-branches  many-leaved — 
Eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  hath  heard, 
Nor  heart  conceived. 

I  hope  to  see  these  things  again, 

But  not  as  once  in  dreams  by  night ; 
To  see  them  with  my  very  sight, 

And  touch,  and  handle,  and  attain : 

To  have  all  Heaven  beneath  my  feet 
For  narrow  way  that  once  they  trod  ; 

To  have  my  part  with  all  the  Saints, 
And  with  my  GOD. 


THE  ONE  GLAD  DAY. 


Fredrick  D.  Huntington. 


THERE  is  no  night  in  heaven ; 
In  that  blest  world  above 
Work  never  can  bring  weariness, 

For  work  itself  is  love. 
There  is  no  night  in  heaven  ; 
Yet  nightly  round  the  bed 
Of  every  Christian  wanderer 
Faith  hears  an  angel  tread. 

There  is  no  grief  in  heaven  ; 

For  life  is  one  glad  day, 
And  tears  are  of  those  former  things 

Which  all  have  passed  away. 


62 


HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


There  is  no  grief  in  heaven ; 

Yet  angels  from  on  high, 
On  golden  pinions  earthward  glide, 

The  Christian's  tears  to  dry. 

There  is  no  sin  in  heaven  ; 

Behold  that  blessed  throng ; 
All  holy  in  their  spotless  robe, 

All  holy  in  their  song. 
There  is  no  sin  in  heaven  : 

Here  who  from  sin  is  free  ? 
Yet  angels  aid  us  in  our  strife 

For  Christ's  true  liberty. 

There  is  no  death  m  heaven  ; 

For  they  who  gain  that  shore 
Have  won  their  immortality, 

And  they  can  die  no  more. 
There  is  no  death  in  heaven  ; 

But  when  the  Christian  dies, 
The  angels  'wait  his  parted  soul, 

And  waft  it  to  the  skies. 


NATURE  OF  HEAVEN.  63 


THE  MOURNER'S  HEAVEN. 


Thomas  H.  Gill. 

"Make  us  glad  according  to  the  days  wherein  Thou  hast  afflicted  us,  and  the 
years  wherein  we  have  seen  evil." 


HOW  bright  they  bloom,  those  Heavenly  Bowers, 
For  all  Thy  people,  Lord  ! 
What  sweetness  from  the  unfading  flowers 
O'er  all  their  path  is  poured ! 

That  Heavenly  Home — what  joy  is  there 

For  hearts  with  love  that  beat ! 
That  Better  Land,  that  Holy  Air, 

For  seeking  souls  how  sweet ! 

But  brightest,  Lord,  on  weeping  eyes 

The  Happy  Fields  do  break ; 
Those  golden  gates,  those  smiling  skies 

Thy  mourners  gladdest  make. 

O  eager  to  the  Realm  of  Rest 

The  weary  pilgrims  come  ; 
What  hearts,  like  hearts  forlorn,  are  blest 

In  the  sweet  Heavenly  Home ! 

The  memory  of  these  mournful  years 

The  heavenly  joy  fulfils  ; 
More  sad  and  lone  the  Vale  of  Tears, 

More  bright  the  Eternal  Hills. 


64  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


THE  LAND  BEYOND  THE  SEA. 


Frederick  William  Faber. 


THE  Land  beyond  the  Sea! 
When  will  life's  task  be  o'er  ? 
When  shall  we  reach  that  soft  blue  shore, 
O'er  the  dark  strait  whose  billows  foam  and  roar? 
When  shall  we  come  to  thee, 
Calm  Land  beyond  the  Sea  ? 

The  Land  beyond  the  Sea ! 

How  close  it  often  seems, 

When  flushed  with  evening's  peaceful  gleams; 

And  the  wistful  heart  looks  o'er  the  strait,  and  dreams! 

It  longs  to  fly  to  thee, 

Calm  Land  beyond  the  Sea  I 

The  Land  beyond  the  Sea ! 

Sometimes  distinct  and  near 

It  grows  upon  the  eye  and  ear, 

And  the  gulf  narrows  to  a  threadlike  mere ; 

We  seem  halfway  to  thee. 

Calm  Land  beyond  the  Sea ! 

The  Land  beyond  the  Sea ! 

Sometimes  across  the  strait. 

Like  a  drawbridge  to  a  castle  gate, 

The  slanting  sunbeams  lie,  and  seem  to  wait 

For  us  to  pass  to  thee, 

Calm  Land  beyond  the  Sea ! 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  65 

The  Land  beyond  the  Sea ! 

Oh  how  the  lapsing  years, 

Mid  our  not  unsubmissive  tears, 

Have  borne,  now  singly,  now  in  fleets,  the  biers 

Of  those  we  love  to  thee. 

Calm  Land  beyond  the  Sea ! 

The  Land  beyond  the  Sea ! 

How  dark  our  present  home! 

By  the  dull  beach  and  sullen  foam 

How  wearily,  how  drearily  we  roam. 

With  arms  outstretched  to  thee, 

Calm  Land  beyond  the  Sea ! 

The  Land  beyond  the  Sea  ! 
When  will  our  toil  be  done  ? 
Slow-footed  years  !  more  swiftly  run 
Into  the  gold  of  that  unsetting  sun  ! 
Homesick  we  are  for  thee. 
Calm  Land  beyond  the  Sea ! 

The  Land  beyond  the  Sea  ! 

Why  fadest  thou  in  light? 

Why  art  thou  better  seen  towards  night  ? 

Dear  Land  !  look  always  plain,  look  always  bright, 

That  we  may  gaze  on  thee. 

Calm  Land  beyond  the  Sea  ! 

The  Land  beyond  the  Sea ! 

Sweet  is  thine  endless  rest. 

But  sweeter  far  that  Father's  Breast 

Upon  thy  shores  eternally  possest ; 

For  Jesus  reigns  o'er  thee, 

Calm  Land  beyond  the  Sea  ! 


66  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


THE  SHORE  OF  ETERNITY. 


Frederick  William  Faber. 


ALONE !  to  land  alone  upon  that  shore! 
With  no  one  sight  that  we  have  seen  before,- 
Things  of  a  different  hue, 
And  the  sounds  all  new, 
And  fragrances  so  sweet  the  soul  may  faint. 
Alone  !    Oh  that  first  hour  of  being  a  saint ! 

Alone  !  to  land  alone  upon  that  shore  ! 
On  which  no  wavelets  lisp,  no  billows  roar, 

Perhaps  no  shape  of  ground, 

Perhaps  no  sight  or  sound, 
No  forms  of  earth  our  fancies  to  arrange, — 
But  to  begin  alone  that  mighty  change ! 

Alone !  to  land  alone  upon  that  shore ! 
Knowing  so  well  we  can  return  no  more : 

No  voice  or  face  of  friend. 

None  with  us  to  attend 
Our  disembarking  on  that  awful  strand, 
But  to  arrive  alone  in  such  a  land ! 

Alone  !  to  land  alone  upon  that  shore  ! 
To  begin  alone  to  live  for  evermore, 

To  have  no  one  to  teach 

The  manners  or  the  speech 
Of  that  new  life,  or  put  us  at  our  ease: — 
Oh  might  we  die  in  pairs  or  companies  ! 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN. 

Alone  !     No  !  God  hath  been  there  long  before, 
Eternally  hath  waited  on  that  shore 

For  us  who  were  to  come 

To  our  eternal  home  ; 
And  He  hath  taught  His  angels  to  prepare 
In  what  way  we  are  to  be  welcomed  there. 

Like  one  that  waits  and  watches  He  hath  sate, 

As  if  there  were  none  else  for  whom  to  wait,     . 
Waiting  for  us,  for  us 
Who  keep  Him  waiting  thus. 

And  who  bring  less  to  satisfy  His  love 

Than  any  other  of  the  souls  above. 

Alone  ?     The  God  we  know  is  on  that  shore, 
The  God  of  whose  attractions  we  know  more 

Than  of  those  who  may  appear 

Nearest  and  dearest  here  : 
Oh  is  He  not  the  life-long  friend  we  know 
More  privately  than  any  friend  below ! 

Alone?     The  God  we  trust  is  on  that  shore, 
The  Faithful  One  whom  we  have  trusted  more 
In  trials  and  in  woes 
Than  we  have  trusted  those 
On  whom  we  leaned  most  in  our  earthly  strife, — 
Oh  we  shall  trust  Him  more  in  that  new  life  ! 

Alone?     The  God  we  love  is  on  that  shore, 
Love  not  enough,  yet  whom  we  love  far  more, 

And  whom  we've  loved  all  through, 

And  with  a  love  more  true 
Than  other  loves, — yet  now  shall  love  Him  more 
True  love  of  Him  begins  upon  that  shore  ! 


68  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

So  not  alone  we  land  upon  that  shore  : 

*  Twill  be  as  though  we  had  been  there  before  ; 

We  shall  meet  more  we  know 

Than  we  can  meet  below, 
And  find  our  rest  like  some  returning  dove, 
And  be  at  home  at  once  with  our  Eternal  Love ! 


THE  LAST  DAY  AND  ETERNAL  LIFE. 


Paul  Gerhardt:  Translated  by  John  Kelly. 


THE  time  is  very  near 
When,  Lord,  Thou  wilt  be  here 
The  signs  whereof  Thou'st  spoken 
Thine  advent  should  betoken, 
We've  seen  them  oft  fulfilling 
In  number  beyond  telling. 

What  shall  I  do  then.  Lord  ? 
But  rest  upon  Thy  word, 
The  promise  Thou  hast  given 
That  thou  wilt  come  from  heaven, 
Me  from  the  grave  deliver 
And  from  all  woe  for  ever. 

Ah  !  Jesus  Christ,  how  fair 
Will  be  my  portion  there ! 
The  welcome  thou'lt  address  me, 
Thy  glances,  how  they'll  bless  me, 
When  I  the  earth  forsaking, 
My  flight  to  Thee  am  taking. 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  69 

Ah  !  what  will  be  the  word 
Thou'lt  speak,  my  Shepherd  Lord ! 
What  will  be  then  Thy  greeting, 
Me  and  my  brethren  meeting? 
Thy  members  Thou  wilt  own  us, 
And  near  Thyself  enthrone  us. 

And  in  that  blessed  hour, 

How  shall  I  have  the  power 

Mine  eyelids  dry  of  keeping, 

How  tears  of  joy  from  weeping 

Refrain,  that  flowing  over 

My  cheeks,  like  floods  would  cover? 

And  what  a  beauteous  light 

Will  from  Thy  face  so  bright  * 

Beam  on  me,  then  in  heaven. 

When  sight  of  Thee  is  given. 

Thy  goodness  then  me  filling, 

Joy  will  my  breast  be  swelling. 

1*11  see  then  and  adore 
Thy  body  bruised  sore. 
Whereon  our  faith  is  founded,* 
The  prints  of  nails  that  wounded 
Thy  hands  and  feet  be  greeting. 
Thy  gaze  with  rapture  meeting. 

Thou,  Lord,  alone  dost  know 

The  joys  so  pure  that  flow 

In  life's  unfailing  river 

In  paradise  for  ever. 

Thou  can'st  portray,  and  show  them: 

By  faith  alone  I  know  them. 


JO  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

What  I've  believ'd  stands  sure, 
Remaineth  aye  secure  ; 
My  part  the  wealth  surpasseth, 
The  richest  here  amasseth  ; 
All  other  wealth  decayeth 
My  portion  ever  stayeth. 

My  God,  my  fairest  Part ! 
How  will  my  bounding  heart 
With  joy  be  overflowing, 
Praise  evermore  renewing, 
When  through  the  door  of  heaven 
By  Thee  is  entrance  given  ? 

Thou'lt  say,  "  Come,  taste  and  see, 
Oh  !  child,  belov'd  by  me, 
Come,  taste  the  gifts  so  precious 
I  and  my  Father  gracious 
Have  to  bestow,  come  hither. 
In  pleasure  bask  forever.'' 

Alas  !  thou  world  so  poor  ! 
Of  Avealth,  what  is  thy  store  ? 
Mean  is  it  to  be  holden, 
Compar'd  with  all  the  golden 
Crowns  and  thrones  Jesus  placeth 
For  whom  He  loves  and  graceth. 

Here  is  the  angel's  home, 
Bless'd  spirits  hither  come. 
Here  nought  is  heard  but  singing, 
Nought  seen  but  joy  up-springing, 
No  cross,  no  death,  no  sorrow, 
No  parting  on  the  morrow. 


NATURE    OF   HEAVEN. 

Hold  !  hold  !  my  sense  so  weak ! 
What  dost  thou  think  and  speak, 
What's  fathomless,  art  sounding  ? 
What's  measureless,  art  bounding? 
Here  must  man's  wit  be  bending, 
The  eloquent  be  ending. 

Lord  !  I  delight  in  Thee, 
Thou  ne'er  shalt  go  from  me, 
Thy  hand  in  bounty  giveth 
More  than  my  heart  conceiveth, 
Or  I  can  e'er  be  counting, 
So  high  Thy  mercy's  mounting. 

How  sad,  O  Lord,  am  I, 
Until  I  from  on  high 
See  Thee  in  glory  hither 
Come,  Thine  own  to  deliver, 
Wert  Thou  but  now  revealing 
Thyself!  my  wish  fulfilling! 

The  time  is  known  to  Thee  ; 
It  best  becometh  me 
To  be  prepar'd  for  going, 
And  all  things  so  be  doing. 
That  every  moment  even 
My  heart  may  be  in  Heaven. 

This  grant.  Lord,  and  me  bless. 
That  so  Thy  truth  and  grace 
May  keep  me  ever  waking, 
That  Thy  day  not  o'ertaking 
Me  unawares,  affright  me, 
But  may,  O  Lord,  delight  me ! 


72  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


THE  EVERLASTING  REST. 


Thomas  H.  Gill. 


"  There  remaineth  a  rest  for  the  people  of  God" 

PATIENT  art  Thou,  Lord,  and  gracious 
With  Thy  servants  in  their  woe  ; 
In  Thy  sight  the  tears  are  precious 
From  Heaven-turned  eyes  that  flow : 
Yet  why  sorrow, 
Heirs  of  rest  eternal,  so  ? 

Hast  Thou  nought  for  them  that  love  Thee, 

No  sweet  guerdon  for  their  pains  ? 
Lacks  their  love  the  power  to  move  Thee, 
Want  and  woe  their  only  gains  ? 
Boundless  Giver ! 
For  Thine  own  a  rest  remains. 

Would  they  for  some  treasure  tarry, 
Of  more  sweetness  be  possessed  ? 
Would  they  lighter  burdens  carry, 
With  more  pleasant  tasks  be  blessed  ? 
Bootless  yearning, 
Theirs  the  everlasting  rest. 

Spare  them,  Lord,  no  task  diurnal, 

Spare  Thine  own  no  burden  sore ! 
They  can  wait  the  Year  Eternal, 
They  can  wait  the  heavenly  shore  ; 
Calm  they  tarry. 
Heirs  of  rest  forcvermore. 


NATURE  OF   HEAVEN.  73 

Here  below  a  glorious  gladness 

Maketh  sweet  their  toils  and  pains ; 
Here  they  drop  the  song  of  sadness 
For  the  glad  immortal  strains  ; 
Thou  hast  spoken  ! 
For  Thine  own  a  rest  remains. 


HOW  GLORIOUS  MUST  THE  MANSION  BE. 


Reginald  Heber. 


I  PRAISED  the  earth,  in  beauty  seen 
With  garlands  gay  of  various  green  ; 
I  praised  the  sea,  whose  ample  field 
Shone  glorious  as  a  silver  shield  ; 
And  earth  and  ocean  seemed  to  say, 
*'  Our  beauties  are  but  for  a  day." 

I  praised  the  sun,  whose  chariot  rolled 
On  wheels  of  amber,  and  of  gold  ; 
I  praised  the  moon,  whose  softer  eye 
Gleamed  sweetly  through  the  summer  sky ; 
And  moon,  and  sun,  in  answer  said, 
"  Our  days  of  light  are  numbered." 

O  God !  O  good  beyond  compare  ! 
If  thus  Thy  meaner  works  are  fair, 
If  thus  Thy  bounties  gild  the  span 
Of  ruined  earth,  and  sinful  man, 
How  glorious  must  the  mansion  be, 
Where  Thy  redeemed  shall  dwell  with  Thee  ! 
4 


74  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


THE  BETTER  LAND. 


Mrs.  Felicia  Hemans. 


I   HEAR  thee  speak  of  the  better  land  ; 
Thou  call'st  its  children  a  happy  band  ; 
Mother !  O  where  is  that  radiant  shore, — 
Shall  we  not  seek  it  and  weep  no  more  ? 
Is  it  where  the  flower  of  the  orange  blows, 
And  the  fire-flies  glance  through  the  myrtle  boughs?" 
"  Not  there,  not  there,  my  child !  " 

"  Is  it  where  the  feathery  palm-trees  rise, 
And  the  date  grows  ripe  under  sunny  skies, 
Or  'midst  the  green  islands  of  glittering  seas 
Where  fragrant  forests  perfume  the  breeze, 
And  strange,  bright  birds  on  their  starry  wings 
Bear  the  rich  hues  of  all  glorious  things?" 

**  Not  there,  not  there,  my  child  !  " 

"  Is  it  far  away  in  some  region  old 

Where  the  rivers  wander  o'er  sands  of  gold, — 

Where  the  burning  rays  of  the  ruby  shine. 

And  the  diamond  lights  up  the  secret  mine, 

And  the  pearl  gleams  forth  from  the  coral  strand, — 

Is  it  there,  sweet  mother,  that  better  land  ?  " 

"  Not  there,  not  there,  my  child  ! 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  75 

"  Eye  hath  not  seen  it,  my  gentle  boy! 
Ear  hath  not  heard  its  deep  songs  of  joy, 
Dreams  cannot  picture  a  world  so  fair, — 
Sorrow  and  death  may  not  enter  there ; 
Time  doth  not  breathe  on  its  fadeless  bloom, 
For  beyond  the  clouds,  and  beyond  the  tomb, 

It  is  there,  it  is  there,  my  child  !  " 


LOOK  UP  YE  SAINTS. 


Henry  W.  Baker. 


THERE  is  a  blessed  home 
Beyond  this  land  of  woe, 
Where  trials  never  come. 

Nor  tears  of  sorrow  flow  ; 
Where  faith  is  lost  in  sight, 

And  patient  hope  is  crowned, 
And  everlasting  light 
Its  glory  throws  around. 

There  is  a  land  of  peace, 

Good  angels  know  it  well ; 
Glad  songs  that  never  cease 

Within  its  portals  swell ; 
Around  its  glorious  throne 

Ten  thousand  saints  adore 
Christ,  with  the  Father  one, 

And  Spirit,  evermore. 


76  HEAVEN   IN    SONG. 

O  joy  all  joys  beyond, 

To  see  the  Lamb  who  died, 
And  count  each  sacred  wound 

In  hands,  and  feet,  and  side ! 
To  give  to  Him  the  praise 

Of  every  triumph  won, 
And  sing  through  endless  days 

The  great  things  He  hath  done. 

Look  up,  ye  saints  of  God, 

Nor  fear  to  tread  below 
The  path  your  Saviour  trod 

Of  daily  toil  and  woe  ; 
Wait  but  a  little  while 

In  uncomplaining  love ; 
His  own  most  gracious  smile 

Shall  welcome  you  above. 


THE  SECOND  DAY  OF  CREATION. 


T.  Whytehead. 


THIS  world  I  deem 
But  a  beautiful  dream 
Of  shadows  that  are  not  what  they  seem. 
Where  visions  rise, 
Giving  dim  surmise 
Of  the  things  that  shall  meet  our  waking  eyes. 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  "^J 

Arm  of  the  Lord  ! 

Creating  Word  ! 
Whose  glory  the  silent  skies  record 

Where  stands  Thy  name 

In  scrolls  of  flame 
On  the  firmament's  high-shadowing  frame. 

I  gaze  o'erhead, 

Where  Thy  hand  hath  spread 
For  the  waters  of  Heaven  that  crystal  bed, 

And  stored  the  dew 

In  its  deeps  of  blue, 
Which  the  fires  of  the  sun  come  tempered  through. 

Soft  they  shine 

Through  that  pure  shrine, 
As  beneath  the  veil  of  Thy  flesh  divine. 

Beams  forth  the  light 

That  were  else  too  bright 
For  the  feebleness  of  a  sinner's  sight. 

I  gaze  aloof 

On  the  tissued  roof, 
Where  time  and  space  are  the  warp  and  \voof„ 

Which  the  King  of  kings 

As  a  curtain  flings 
O'er  the  dreadfulness  of  eternal  things, — 

A  tapestried  tent 

To  shade  us  meant 
From  the  bare  everlasting  firmament ; 

Where  the  blaze  of  the  skies 

Comes  soft  to  our  eyes 
Through  a  v^il  of  mystical  imageries. 


78  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

But  could  I  see 

As  in  truth  they  be, 
The  glories  of  Heaven  that  encompass  me, 

I  should  lightly  hold 

The  tissued  fold 
Of  that  marvellous  curtain  of  blue  and  gold. 

Soon  the  whole 

Like  a  parched  scroll 
Shall  before  my  amazed  sight  uproll, 

And  without  a  screen 

At  one  burst  be  seen 
The  Presence  wherein  I  have  ever  been. 

O  !  who  shall  bear 

The  blinding  glare 
Of  the  Majesty  that  shall  meet  us  there  ? 

What  eye  may  gaze 

On  the  unveiled  blaze 
Of  the  light-girdled  throne  of  the  Ancient  of  days? 

Christ  us  aid  ! 

Himself  be  our  shade. 
That  in  that  dread  day  we  be  not  dismayed ! 


NATURE    OF   HEAVEN.  79 


MY  GUESS  OF  HEAVEN. 


Thomas  Ken. 
"  For  the  hope  which  is  laid  up  for  you  in  Heaven." 

NOR  eye,  ear,  thought,  can  take  the  height 
To  which  my  song  is  taking  flight, 
Yet  raised  on  humble  wing, 
My  guess  of  Heaven  I'll  sing  ; 
'Tis  Love's  reward,  and  Love  is  fired 
By  guessing  at  the  bliss  desired. 

Guess  then  at  saints'  eternal  lot. 
By  due  considering  what  'tis  not, 

No  misery,  want,  or  care, 

No  death,  no  darkness  there. 
No  troubles,  storms,  sighs,  groans,  or  tears, 
No  injury,  pains,  sickness,  fears. 

There  souls  no  disappointments  meet, 
No  vanities  the  choice  to  cheat, 

Nothing  that  can  defile. 

No  hypocrite,  no  guile, 
No  need  of  prayer,  or  what  implies, 
Or  absence  or  vacuities. 

There  no  ill  conscience  gnaws  the  breast, 
No  tempters  holy  souls  infest. 

No  curse,  no  weeds,  no  toil, 

No  errors  to  embroil. 
No  lustful  thought  can  enter  in, 
Or  possibility  of  sin. 


8o  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

From  all  vexations  here  below, 
The  region  of  sin,  death  and  woe. 

Song,  to  your  utmost  stress 

Now  elevate  your  guess. 
Sing  what  in  sacred  lines  you  read, 
Of  bliss  for  pious  souls  decreed. 

They  dwell  in  pure  ecstatic  light. 
Of  God  Triune  have  blissful  sight. 

Of  Fontal  Love,  who  gave 

God  Filial,  man  to  save  ; 
Of  Jesus'  Love,  who  death  sustain'd. 
By  which  the  saints  their  glory  gain'd  ; 

Of  Love  co-breathed  the  boundless  Source. 
From  which  saints'  love  derives  its  force. 

Within  the  gracious  shine 

Of  the  co-glorious  Trine, 
The  saints  in  happy  mansions  rest, 
Of  all  they  can  desire  possess'd. 

Saints'  bodies  there  the  sun  outvie 
Temper'd  to  feel  the  joys  on  high, 

Bright  body  and  pure  mind. 

In  rapture  unconfined. 
Capacities  expand,  till  fit 
Deluge  of  Godhead  to  admit. 

In  all-sufficient  bliss  they  joy. 

Duration  in  sweet  hymns  employ ; 
With  angels  they  converse, 
Their  loves  and  joys  rehearse, 

Taste  suavities  of  Love  immense. 

Of  all  delights  full  confluence. 


NATURE   OF  HEAVEN.  8l 

With  God's  ov/n  Son  they  reign  co-heirs, 
Each  saint  with  Him  in  glory  shares, 

Like  Godhead,  happy,  pure, 

Against  all  change  secure, 
In  boundless  joys  they  sabbatise, 
Which  Love  Triune  will  eternise. 

By  boundless  Love,  for  souls  refined, 
And  joys  unspeakable  design'd, 

When  I  those  joys  imbibe, 

I  then  may  them  describe  ; 
Joys  to  full  pitch  will  hymn  excite. 
When  from  sensation  I  endite.    " 


THE  SEEN  AND  THE  UNSEEN. 


HoRATius  BoNAR.    [On  the  Great  Exhibition,  1851.] 


HA  !  yon  burst  of  crystal  splendor, 
Sunlight,  starlight,  blent  in  one  ; 
Starhght  set  in  arctic  azure, 

SunHght  from  the  burning  zone  ! 
Gold  and  silver,  gems  and  marble. 

All  creation's  jewelry ; 
Earth's  uncovered  waste  of  riches, 
Treasures  of  the  ancient  sea. 

Heir  of  glory. 
What  is  that  to  thee  and  me  ? 


82  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Iris  and  Aurora  braided — 

How  the  woven  colors  shine  ! 
Snow-gleams  from  an  Alpine  summit, 

Torch-light  from  a  spar-roofed  mine. 
Like  Arabia's  matchless  palace, 

Child  of  magic's  strong  decree, 
One  vast  globe  of  living  sapphire. 

Floor,  walls,  columns,  canopy. 
Heir  of  glory, 

What  is  that  to  thee  -and  me  ? 

Forms  of  beauty,  shapes  of  wonder. 

Trophies  of  triumphant  toil ; 
Never  Athens,  Rome,  Palmyra, 

Gazed  on  such  a  costly  spoil. 
Dazzling  the  bewildered  vision, 

More  than  princely  pomp  we  see ; 
What  the  blaze  of  the  Alhambra, 

Dome  of  emerald,  to  thee  ? 
Heir  of  glory. 

What  is  that  to  thee  and  me  } 

Farthest  cities  pour  their  riches. 

Farthest  empires  muster  here, 
Art  her  jubilee  proclaiming 

To  the  nations  far  and  near. 
From  the  crowd  in  wonder  gazing. 

Science  claims  the  prostrate  knee  ; 
This  her  temple,  diamond-blazing, 

Shrine  of  her  idolatry. 
Heir  of  glory, 

What  is  that  to  thee  and  me? 


NATURE   OF  HEAVEN.  83 

Listen  to  her  tale  of  wonder, 

Of  her  plastic,  potent  spell ; 
'Tis  a  big  and  braggart  story, 

Yet  she  tells  it  fair  and  well. 
She  the  gifted,  gay  magician. 

Mistress  of  earth,  air,  and  sea ; 
This  majestic  apparition, 

Offspring  of  her  sorcery. 
Heir  of  glory. 

What  is  that  to  thee  and  me  ? 

What  to  that  for  which  we're  waiting 

Is  this  glittering  earthly  toy  ? 
Heavenly  glory,  holy  splendor, 

Sum  of  grandeur,  sum  of  joy. 
Not  the  gems  that  time  can  tarnish, 

Not  the  hues  that  dim  and  die, 
Not  the  glow  that  cheats  the  lover, 

Shaded  with  mortality. 
Heir  of  glory, 

That  shall  be  for  thee  and  me  ! 

Not  the  light  that  leaves  us  darker, 

Nor  the  gleams  that  come  and  go, 
Not  the  mirth  whose  end  is  madness. 

Not  the  joy  whose  fruit  is  woe  ; 
Not  the  notes  that  die  at  sunset, 

Not  the  fashion  of  a  day  ; 
But  the  everlasting  beauty, 

And  the  endless  melody. 
Heir  of  glory. 

That  shall  be  for  thee  and  me  ! 


84  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

City  of  the  pearl-bright  portal ; 

City  of  the  jasper  wall ; 
City  of  the  golden  pavement ; 

Seat  of  endless  festival. 
City  of  Jehovah,  Salem, 

City  of  eternity, 
To  thy  bridal-hall  of  gladness 

From  this  prison  would  I  flee. 
Heir  of  glory, 

That  shall  be  for  thee  and  me ! 

Ah  !  with  such  strange  spells  around  me, 

Fairest  of  what  earth  calls  fair. 
How  I  need  thy  fairer  image, 

To  undo  the  syren  snare, 
Lest  the  subtle  serpent-tempter 

Lure  me  with  his  radiant  lie ! 
As  if  sin  were  sin  no  longer, 

Life  were  no  more  vanity. 
Heir  of  glory. 

What  is  that  to  thee  and  me  ? 

Yes,  I  need  thee^  heavenly  city. 

My  low  spirit  to  upbear ; 
Yes,  I  need  thee — earth's  enchantments 

So  beguile  me  with  their  glare  ! 
Let  me  see  thee,  then  these  fetters 

Break  asunder  ;  I  am  free  ; 
Then  this  pomp  no  longer  chains  me  ; 

Faith  has  won  the  victory. 
Heir  of  glory, 

That  shall  be  for  thee  and  me  ! 


NATURE  OF  HEAVEN.  85 

Soon  where  earthly  beauty  blinds  not, 

No  excess  of  brilliance  palls, 
Salem,  city  of  the  holy, 

We  shall  be  within  thy  walls ! 
There,  beside  yon  crystal  river. 

There,  beneath  life's  wondrous  tree. 
There,  with  naught  to  cloud  or  sever — 

Ever  with  the  Lamb  to  be ! 
Heir  of  glory. 

That  shall  be  for  thee  and  me  ! 


MARTYRS'  SONG. 


Christina  G.  Rossetti. 


W 


E  meet  in  joy,  though  we  part  in  sorrow ; 
We  part  to-night,  but  we  meet  to-morrow. 


Be  it  flood  or  blood  the  path  that's  trod, 
All  the  same  it  leads  home  to  God : 

Be  it  furnace-fire  voluminous, 

One  like  God's  Son  will  walk  with  us. 

What  are  these  that  glow  from  afar. 
These  that  lean  over  the  golden  bar, 

Strong  as  the  lion,  pure  as  the  dove. 
With  open  arms  and  hearts  of  love  ? 

They  the  blessed  ones  gone  before. 
They  the  blessed  forevermore  : 


86  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Out  of  great  tribulation  they  went 
Home  to  their  Home  of  Heaven-content ; 

Through  flood,  or  blood,  or  furnace  fire, 
To  the  Rest  that  fulfils  desire. 

What  are  these  that  fly  as  a  cloud, 
With  flashing  heads  and  faces  bowed, 

In  their  mouths  a  victorious  psalm, 
In  their  hands  a  robe  and  a  palm  ? 

Welcoming  Angels  these  that  shine. 
Your  own  Angel,  and  yours  and  mine ; 

Who  have  hedged  us  both  day  and  night 
On  the  left  hand  and  on  the  right, 

Who  have  watched  us  both  night  and  day, 
Because  the  Devil  keeps  watch  to  slay. 

Light  above  light,  and  Bliss  beyond  bliss, 
Whom  words  cannot  utter,  lo !  Who  is  This  ? 

As  a  King  with  many  crowns  He  stands, 
And  our  names  are  graven  upon  His  Hands ; 

As  a  Priest,  with  God-uplifted  Eyes, 
He  offers  for  us  His  Sacrifice  ; 

As  the  Lamb  of  God  for  sinners  slain, 
That  we  too  may  live  He  lives  again ; 

As  our  own  Champion,  behold  Him  stand 
Strong  to  save  us  at  God's  Right  Hand. 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  8/ 

God  the  Father  give  us  Grace 

To  walk  in  the  Light  of  Jesus'  Face. 

God  the  Son  give  us  a  part 

In  the  hiding-place  of  Jesus'  Heart. 

God  the  Spirit  so  hold  us  up 
That  we  may  drink  of  Jesus'  Cup. 

Death  is  short  and  Life  is  long ; 

Satan  is  strong,  but  Christ  more  strong. 

At  His  Word,  Who  hath  led  us  hither, 
The  Red  Sea  must  part  hither  and  thither ; 

At  His  Word,  Who  goes  before  us  too, 
Jordan  must  cleave  to  let  us  pass  through. 

Yet  one  pang  searching  and  sore, 
And  then  Heaven  for  evermore  ; 

Yet  one  moment  awful  and  dark, 

Then  safety  within  the  Veil  and  the  Ark ; 

Yet  one  effort  by  Christ  His  Grace, 
And  then  Christ  forever  Face  to  face. 

God  the  Father  we  will  adore, 

In  Jesus'  Name,  now  and  evermore  : 

God  the  Son  we  will  love  and  thank 
In  this  flood  and  on  the  further  bank : 

God  the  Holy  Ghost  we  will  praise, 
In  Jesus'  Name,  unto  endless  days . 


88  HEAVEN   IN  SONG. 

God  Almighty,  God  Three  in  One, 
God  Almighty,  God  Alone. 


WHEN  NIGHTLY  THROUGH  THE  SKY, 


From  the  Spanish  of  Luis  de  Leon.    Translated  by  Archdeacon  Churton. 


WHEN  nightly  through  the  sky 
I  view  the  stars  their  files  unnumbered  leading, 
Then  see  the  dark  earth  lie 
In  deathlike  trance,  unheeding 
How  Life  and  Time  with  those  bright  orbs  are  speed- 
ing: 


Strong  love  and  equal  pain 
Wake  in  my  heart  a  fire  with  anguish  burning ; 

The  tear-drops  fall  like  rain, 

Mine  eyes  to  fountains  turning, 
And  my  sad  voice  pours  forth  its  tones  of  mourning 


O  Mansion  of  high  state, 

Bright  Temple  of  bright  Saints  in  beauty  dwelling. 
The  Soul,  once  born  to  mate 
With  these,  what  force  repelling 

Hath  bound  to  earth,  its  light  in  darkness  quelling  ? 


NATURE   OF  HEAVEN.  89 

What  mortal  disaccord 
Hath  exiled  so  from  Truth  the  mind  unstable  ? 

Why,  of  its  blest  reward 

Forgetful,  lost,  unable, 
Seeks  it  each  shadowy  fraud  and  guileful  fable  ? 


Man  lies  in  slumber  dead, 
Like  one  that  of  his  danger  hath  no  feeling, 
The  while  with  silent  tread 
Those  restless  orbs  are  wheeling. 
And  as  they  fly  his  hours  of  life  are  stealing. 

O  Mortals,  wake  and  rise ; 
Think  of  the  loss  that  on  your  lives  is  pressing ; 

The  Soul,  that  never  dies. 

Ordained  for  endless  blessing. 
How  shall  it  live  false  shows  for  Truth  caressing  ? 

Ah,  raise  your  fainting  eyes 
To  that  firm  sphere  where  still  new  glory  weareth, 

And  scorn  the  low  disguise 

The  flattering  world  prepareth. 
And  all  the  world's  poor  thrall  hopeth  or  feareth. 

O  what  is  all  earth's  round, 
Brief  scene  of  man's  proud  strife  and  vain  endeavor, 

Weighed  with  that  deep  profound. 

That  tideless  Ocean-river, 
That  onward  bears  Time's  fleeting  forms  forever? 


90  HEAVEN    IN    SONG. 

Once  meditate,  and  see 
That  fixed  accord  in  wondrous  variance  given, 

The  mighty  harmony 

Of  courses  all  uneven, 
Wherein  each  star  keeps  time  and  place  in  heaven. 


Who  can  behold  that  store 
Of  light  unspent,  and  not  with  very  sighing 

Burst  earth's  frail  bonds,  and  soar, 

With  Soul  unbodied  flying, 
From  this  sad  place  of  exile  and  of  dying? 

There  dwelleth  sweet  Content ; 
There  is  the  reign  of  Peace  ;  there,  throned  in  splendor. 

As  one  pre-eminent. 

With  dove-like  eyes  so  tender, 
Sits  holy  Love — honor  and  joy  attend  her. 

There  is  revealed  whate'er 
Of  Beauty  thought  can  reach  ;  the  source  internal 

Of  purest  Light,  that  ne'er 

To  darkness  yields  ;  eternal 
Bloom  the  bright  flowers  in  clime  forever  vernal. 

There  would  my  Spirit  be, 
Those  quiet  fields  and  pleasant  meads  exploring, 

Where  Truth  immortally. 

Her  priceless  wealth  outpouring, 
Feeds  through  the  blissful  vales  the  Souls  of  Saints 
adoring. 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  QI 


WHAT  SHALL  WE  BE? 


Anonymous. 


\li  7' HAT  shall  we  be,  and  whither  shall  we  go, 
V  V     When  the  last  conflict  of  our  life  is  o'er, 
And  we  return,  from  wandering  to  and  fro, 

To  our  dear  home,  through  heaven's  eternal  door  ? 
When  we  shake  off  the  last  dust  from  our  feet, 

When  we  wipe  off  the  last  drop  from  our  brow, 
And  our  departed  friends  once  more  shall  greet, — 

The  hope  which  cheers  and  comforts  us  below ! 

What  shall  we  be,  when  we  ourselves  shall  see, 

Bathed  in  the  flood  of  everlasting  light. 
And  from  all  guilt  and  sin  entirely  free, 

Stand  pure  and  blameless  in  our  Maker's  sight  ? 
No  longer  from  His  holy  presence  driven. 

Conscious  of  guilt  and  stung  with  inward  pain, 
But  friends  of  God  and  citizens  of  heaven, 

To  join  the  ranks  of  his  celestial  train  ! 

What  shall  we  be,  when  we  drink  in  the  sound 

Of  heavenly  music  from  the  spheres  above, 
When  golden  harps  to  listening  hosts  around 

Declare  the  wonders  of  redeeming  love  ? 
When,  far  and  wide,  through  the  resounding  air 

Loud  Hallelujahs  from  the  ransom'd  rise. 
And  holy  incense,  sweet  with  praise  and  prayer, 

Is  wafted  to  the  Highest  through  the  skies ! 


92  HEAVEN  IN   SONG. 

What  shall  we  be,  when  the  freed  soul  shall  rise 

With  unrestrain'd  and  bold  aspiring  flight 
To  Him,  who  by  His  wondrous  sacrifice 

Hath  open'd  heaven  and  scatter'd  sin's  dark  night  ? 
When  from  the  eye  of  faith  the  thin  veil  drops. 

Like  wreaths  of  mist  before  the  morning's  rays, 
And  we  behold  the  end  of  all  our  hopes, 

The  son  of  God  in  full  refulgent  blaze ! 


ATHANATOS. 


H.  Kirk  White. 


AWAY  with  Death — away 
With  all  her  sluggish  sleeps  and  chilling  damps, 
Impervious  to  the  day. 

Where  nature  sinks  into  inanity. 
How  can  the  soul  desire 

Such  hateful  nothingness  to  crave, 
And  yield  with  joy  the  vital  fire, 

To  moulder  in  the  grave  ! 
Yet  mortal  life  is  sad, 

Eternal  storms  molest  its  sullen  sky  ; 
And  sorrows  ever  rife 

Drain  the  sacred  fountain  dry- 
Away  with  mortal  life ! 

But  hail  the  calm  reality, 

The  seraph  Immortality ! 

Hail  the  Heavenly  bowers  of  peace  ! 

Where  all  the  storms  of  passion  cease. 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  93 

Wild  Life's  dismaying  struggle  o'er, 

The  wearied  spirit  weeps  no  more ; 

But  wears  the  eternal  smile  of  joy, 

Tasting  bliss  without  alloy. 

Welcome,  welcome,  happy  bowers. 

Where  no  passing  tempest  lowers ; 

But  the  azure  heavens  display 

The  everlasting  smile  of  day ; 

Where  the  choral  seraph  choir. 

Strike  to  praise  the  harmonious  lyre ; 

And  the  spirit  sinks  to  ease, 

Luird  by  distant  symphonies. 

Oh  !  to  think  of  meeting  there 

The  friends  whose  graves  received  our  tear. 

The  daughter  loved,  the  wife  adored. 

To  our  widow'd  arms  restored  ; 

And  all  the  joys  which  death  did  sever, 

Given  to  us  again  forever  ! 

Who  would  cling  to  wretched  life. 

And  hug  the  poisonM  thorn  of  strife  ; 

Who  would  not  long  from  earth  to  fly, 

A  sluggish  senseless  lump  to  lie. 

When  the  glorious  prospect  lies 

Full  before  his  raptured  eyes? 


94  HEAVEN  IN  SONG. 


THE  EXILE'S  VISION. 


Paul  Gerhardt  :  Translated  by  John  Kelly. 


BY  John  was  seen  a  wondrous  sight, 
A  noble  Hght, 
A  picture  very  glorious: 
A  multitude  stood  'fore  him  there 
All  bright  and  fair, 
On  heav'nly  plain  victorious  ; 
Their  heart  and  mood 
Were  full  of  good, 
That  mortal  man 
With  gold  ne'er  can 
Procure,  so  high  'tis  o'er  us. 


Palm  branches  in  their  hands  they  bore ; 

They  stood  before 

The  Lamb's  throne,  'fore  the  Saviour ; 

Praise  from  their  lips  did  ever  flow, 

Their  robes  like  snow  ; 

Their  song  still  higher  ever, 

So  sweetly  rang ; 

God's  thanks  they  sang, 

And  in  their  song 

The  holy  throng 

Of  angels  joined  ever. 


NATURE    OF   HEAVEN.  95 

"Who,"  said  the  wond'ring  John,  "are  they 

In  white  array. 

Whom  now  I  see  before  me  ?  " 

"  They  are,"  said  one  from  out  the  crowd, 

That  round  him  stood. 

One  of  the  elders  hoary, 

"  They're  men,  my  son, 

Who  fought  and  won 

The  fight  of  faith, 

Despis'd  the  scath. 

Attained  the  prize  of  glory 


"  They're  those  who  on  the  earth  below, 

Long,  long  ago, 

Pass'd  through  great  tribulation, 

Who  for  the  honor  of  their  Lord 

And  of  His  word. 

And  grief  and  all  vexation, 

From  blame  all  free 

But  patiently. 

Though  smarting  sore  _ 

By  God's  help  bore, 

O'ercame  with  exultation. 


**  They  wash'd  their  robes  and  made  them  white 

(Their  hearts  were  right). 

In  faith's  bath  them  renewing. 

And  they  resisted  evermore 

With  all  their  pow'r 

Hell's  art,  it  quite  subduing, 


96  HEAVEN  IN  SONG. 

Did  aye  deride 

Earth's  pomp  and  pride, 

Chose  Jesu's  blood 

As  their  chief  good,  ; 

All  other  good  eschewing. 


"  And  therefore  with  their  doings,  they 

Stand  there  for  aye, 

Where  God's  fair  temple's  standing, 

The  temple  where  they  night  and  day 

Praise  God  for  aye, 

His  glorious  name  commending. 

There  do  they  live 

With  nought  to  grieve, 

From  toil  all  free 

Joys  taste  and  see, 

That  never  know  an  ending. 


**  There  in  His  dwelling  sitteth  God 

And  spreads  abroad 

His  goodness  as  a  cover, 

There  with  bliss  manifold  is  bless'd 

In  quiet  rest, 

The  wearied  whose  life's  over ; 

What  pleasure  gives, 

The  heart  relieves, 

The  longing  stills. 

And  the  eye  fills, 

In  full  bloom  stands  there  ever. 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  97 

"  No  thirst,  nor  hunger  there,  no  need ; 

The  heav'nly  bread 

All  wants  aye  satisfieth  ; 

And  shineth  there  the  sun  no  more 

In  too  great  pow'r, 

Its  light  poor  joy  supplieth  ; 

Heav'n's  sun  so  bright 

And  heart's  deHght, 

Is  our  great  Lord 

The  living  Word, 

Who  no  good  thing  denieth.'* 


The  Lamb  His  flock  will  ever  feed 
E'en  as  they  need, 
In  pastures  never  wasting, 
He  will  them  to  the  fountain  bring, 
Whence  ever  spring 
Streams  of  life  everlasting ; 
And  certainly 
Ne'er  rest  will  He, 
Till  wash'd  away 
All  tears  for  aye 
Are,  and  His  bliss  we're  tasting. 
5 


98  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 


THINGS  UNSEEN  AND  UNHEARD. 


Giles  Flktcher. 


HERE  may  the  band  that  now  in  triumph  shines, 
And  that  (before  they  were  invested  thus) 
In  earthly  bodies  carried  heavenly  minds, 
Pitch  round  about  in  order  glorious. 
Their  sunny  tents  and  houses  luminous; 
All  their  eternal  day  in  songs  employing, 
Joying  their  end  without  end  of  their  joying, 
While  their  Almighty  Prince  destruction  is  destroying. 

Their  sight  drinks  lovely  fire  in  at  their  eyes, 

Their  breath  sweet  incense  with  fine  breath  accloys. 

That  on  God's  sweating  altar  burning  lies  ; 
Their  hungry  ears  feed  on  the  heavenly  noise 
That  angels  sing  to  tell  their  untold  joys ; 

Their  understanding,  naked  truth,  their  wills, 

The  all  and  self  sufficient  goodness  fills, 

That  nothing  here  is  wanting  but  the  want  of  ills. 

No  sorrow  now  hangs  clouding  on  their  brow; 

No  bloodless  malady  empales  their  face  ; 
No  age  drops  on  their  hairs  his  silver  snow ; 

No  nakedness  their  bodies  doth  embase  ; 

No  poverty  themselves  and  theirs  disgrace ; 
No  fear  of  death  the  joy  of  life  devours  ; 
No  unchaste  sleep  their  precious  time  deflowers ; 
No  loss,  no  grief,  no  change  wait  on  their  winged  hours. 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  99 

But  now  their  naked  bodies  scorn  the  cold, 

And  from  their  eyes  joy  looks  and  laughs  at  pain ; 

The  infant  wonders  how  he  came  so  old, 
The  old  man  how  he  came  so  young  again ; 
Still  resting,  though  from  sleep  they  still  refrain  ; 

Where  all  are  rich,  and  yet  no  gold  they  owe ; 

And  all  are  kings,  and  yet  no  subjects  know, 

All  full,  and  yet  no  time  they  do  on  food  bestow. 

About  the  holy  city  rolls  a  flood 

Of  molten  crystal,  like  a  sea  of  glass, 
On  which  weak  stream  a  strong  foundation  stood  ; 
Of  Hving  diamonds  the  building  was, 
That  all  things  else,  besides  itself,  did  pass. 
Her  streets,  instead  of  stones,  the  stars  did  pave. 
And  little  pearls  for  dust  it  seemed  to  have, 
On  which  soft  streaming  manna,  like  pure  snow,  did 
wave. 

It  is  no  flaming  lustre  made  of  light  ; 

No  sweet  consent,  or  well-tuned  harmony, 
Ambrosia,  for  to  feast  the  appetite  ; 

Or  flowery  odor  mixed  with  spicery  ; 

No  soft  embrace  or  pleasure  bodily : 
And  yet  it  is  a  kind  of  inward  feast, 
A  harmony  that  sounds  within  the  breast, 
An  odor,  light,  embrace,  in  which  the  soul  doth  rest. 

A  heavenly  feast  no  hunger  can  consume  ; 

A  light  unseen,  yet  shines  in  every  place ; 
A  sound  no  time  can  steal ;  a  sweet  perfume 

No  winds  can  scatter ;  an  entire  embrace 


lOO  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

That  no  satiety  can  e'er  unlace  ; 
Ingraced  into  so  high  a  favor  there 
The  saints  with  their  beaupeers  whole  worlds  outwear. 
And  things  unseen  do  see,  and  things  unheard  do  hear. 

Ye  blessed  souls,  grown  richer  by  your  spoil, 

Whose  loss,  though  great,  is  cause  of  greater  gains  ; 
Here  may  your  weary  spirits  rest  from  toil, 
Spending  your  endless  evening  that  remains 
Among  those  white  flocks  and  celestial  trains 
That  feed  upon  their  Shepherd's  eyes,  and  frame 
That  heavenly  music  of  so  wondrous  frame, 
Psalming  aloud  the  holy  honors  of  His  name ! 


HARPS  IN  HEAVEN. 


Edward  H.  Bickersteth. 


AND  at  Oriel's  signal  came 
My  father,  bearing  in  his  hand  a  harp 
Of  simplest  form,  but  manifold  in  tones 
Of  musical  modulations  without  end, 
And  gave  it  to  me,  saying,  "  Take  it,  my  son ; 
It  is  Heaven's  workmanship,  and  made  for  thee." 
I  took  it,  nothing  loth  ;  and,  though  on  earth 
In  lute  or  harp  my  skill  was  nothing,  then 
Immediately  I  felt  the  tremulous  strings 
Responsive  to  my  every  thought,  as  when 
The  wind  in  sportive  or  in  pensive  mood 
Wakens  Aio\ia.n  music.     Strung  it  was 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  lOl 

And  pitch'd  in  most  mysterious  unison 
With  my  heart's  sympathies  ;  for  when  I  laid 
My  fingers  on  its  airy  chords,  straightway 
My  very  soul  gush'd  forth  in  melody, 
The  harp  and  harper  vibrating  in  tune  ; 
While  words,  like  echoes  of  an  old  refrain 
That  heard  in  childhood,  haunts  our  riper  years, 
Broke  in  heaven's  music  from  my  lips. 


A  HOME  IN  HEAVEN. 


William    Hunter, 


A  HOME  in  Heaven!  what  a  joyful  thought, 
As  the  poor  man  toils  in  his  weary  lot ! 
His  heart  opprest,  and  with  anguish  driven. 
From  his  home  below,  to  his  home  in  heaven. 

A  home  in  Heaven !  as  the  sufferer  lies 
On  his  bed  of  pain,  and  uplifts  his  eyes 
To  that  bright  home  ;  what  a  joy  is  given. 
With  the  blessed  thought  of  his  home  in  heaven. 

A  home  in  Heaven !  when  our  pleasures  fade. 
And  our  wealth  and  fame  in  the  dust  are  laid ; 
And  strength  decays,  and  our  health  is  riven. 
We  are  happy  still  with  our  home  in  heaven. 

A  home  in  Heaven !  when  the  faint  heart  bleeds, 
By  the  Spirit's  stroke,  for  its  evil  deeds ; 
Oh  !  then  what  bhss  in  that  heart  forgiven, 
Does  the  hope  inspire  of  a  home  in  heaven. 


I02  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

A  home  in  heaven  !  when  our  friends  are  fled 
To  the  cheerless  gloom  of  the  mouldering  dead  ; 
We  wait  in  hope  on  the  promise  given  ; 
We  will  meet  up  there  in  our  home  in  heaven. 

A  home  in  heaven  !  when  the  wheel  is  broke, 
And  the  golden  bowl  by  the  terror-stroke  ; 
When  life's  bright  sun  sinks  in  death's  dark  even, 
We  will  then  fly  up  to  our  home  in  heaven. 

Our  home  in  heaven  !  oh/ the  glorious  home  ! 
And  the  Spirit,  join'd  with  the  bride,  says  ''  come ! 
Come,  seek  His  face,  and  your  sins  forgiven. 
And  rejoice  in  hope  of  your  home  in  heaven  ! 


INVITATIONS  FROM  HEAVEN. 

COME  to  the  land  of  peace  ! 
Come  where  the  tempest  hath  no  longer  sway, 
The  shadow  passes  from  the  soul  away, 
The  sounds  of  weeping  cease! 

Fear  hath  no  dwelling  there  ! 
Come  to  the  mingling  of  repose  and  love, 
Breathed  by  the  silent  spirit  of  the  dove 

Through  the  celestial  air  ! 

Come  to  the  bright  and  blest. 
And  crowned  forever — 'midst  the  shining  band, 
Gathered  to  heaven's  own  wreath  from  every  land, 

Thy  spirit  shall  find  rest  ! 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  IO3 

Thou  hast  been  long  alone  ; 
Come  to  thy  mother  !  on  the  Sabbath  shore. 
The  heart  that  rocked  thy  childhood  back  once  more 

Shall  take  its  wearied  one. 

In  silence  wert  thou  left, 
Come  to  thy  sisters  ! — ^joyously  again 
All  the  home-voices,  blest  in  one  sweet  strain, 

Shall  greet  their  long  bereft. 

Over  thine  orphan  head 
The  storm  hath  swept,  as  o'er  a  willow's  bough  ; 
Come  to  thy  father ! — it  is  finished  now  ; 

Thy  tears  have  all  been  shed. 

In  thy  divine  abode 
Change  finds  no  pathway,  memory  no  dark  trace ; 
And,  O,  bright  victory ! — death  by  love  no  place  ! 

Come,  spirit,  to  thy  God  ! 


MINISTER'S  WELCOME  TO  HEAVEN. 


Edward  H.  Bickersteth. 


IN  amaze 
I  asked  what  meant  such  gratulation  there, 
And  one  of  many  answered,  "  From  thy  mouth 
We  heard  of  Jesus'  love,  and  thine  the  hand 
That  led  us  to  His  feet."     It  was  enough  ; 
For  all  the  Parent  and  the  Pastor  woke 
Within  me  :  all  the  holy  memories 
Of  bygone  days  flowed  in  a  refluent  tide 


104  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Over  my  soul  once  more.     Some  I  had  known 
From  rosy  dawn  of  childhood.  .  . 
Some  I  had  shepherded,  yea,  many.     And 
Some  in  after  years  had  poured  the  burden 

Of  a  wounded  spirit  into  mine 

And  others,  dying,  heard  me  read  of  him 
Who  on  the  cross  for  mercy  cried  to  Christ ; 
Heard,  and  themselves  believed.     All  these  I  knew, 
And  quick  as  light  their  story  flashed  on  me. 
But  in  that  group  of  filial  spirits  came 
Many  I  knew  not — part  of  that  great  store 
Of  unsuspected  treasure  heaven  conceals. 
And  they  too  poured  on  me  beatitudes. 


MY  PLACE  IN  HEAVEN. 


John  Mason. 


MY  Jesus  is  gone  up  to  heaven 
To  get  a  place  for  me  ; 
For  'tis  His  will,  that,  where  He  is, 
There  should  His  servants  be. 

Canaan  I  view  from  Pisgah's  top, 
Of  Canaan's  grapes  I  taste  : 

My  Lord,  who  sends  unto  me  here. 
Will  send  for  me  at  last. 

I  have  a  God  that  changeth  not  : 
Why  should  I  be  perplext  ? 

My  God,  that  owns  me  in  this  world. 
Will  own  me  in  the  next. 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  10$ 

Go  fearless  then,  my  soul,  with  God 

Into  another  room  : 
Thou  who  hast  walked  with  Him  here 

Go,  see  thy  God  at  home. 

My  dearest  friends  they  dwell  above ; 

Them  will  I  go  to  see  : 
And  all  my  friends  in  Christ  below 

Will  soon  come  after  me. 


NO  STRANGER  IN  HEAVEN. 


Edward  H.  Bickersteth. 


I  WAS  no  stranger  in  a  strange  land  there : 
But  rather  as  one  who  travel-worn  and  weary, 
Weary  of  wandering  through  many  climes, 
At  length  returning  homeward,  eyes  far  off 
The  white  cliffs  of  his  fatherland,  and  ere 
The  laboring  ship  touches  its  sacred  soil 
Leaps  on  the  pier,  while  round  him  crowding  press 
Children,  and  kith  and  friends,  who  in  a  breath 
Ask  of  his  welfare,  and  with  joyous  tongues 
Pour  all  their  love  into  his  thirsty  ear. 
5* 


I06  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


THROUGH  A  GLASS  DARKLY. 


Matthew  Prior. 


A 


S  through  the  artist's  intervening  glass 
Our  eyes  observe  the  distant  planets  pass ; 
A  little  we  discover,  but  allow 
That  more  remains  unseen  than  art  can  show  : 
So  whilst  our  mind  its  knowledge  would  improve 
(Its  feeble  eye  intent  on  things  above), 
High  as  we  may  lift  our  reason  up, 
By  faith  directed,  and  confirmed  by  hope  : 
Yet  we  are  able  only  to  survey 
Dawnings  of  beams,  and  promises  of  day. 
Heaven's  fuller  effluence  mocks  our  dazzled  sight 
Too  great  its  swiftness,  and  too  strong  its  light : 
But  soon  the  'mediate  clouds  shall  be  dispelled  ; 
The  sun  shall  then  be  face  to  face  beheld. 
In  all  his  robes,  with  all  his  glory  on, 
Seated  sublime  on  his  meridian  throne. 


RECOGNITION  IN  HEAVEN. 


Anonymous. 


WHEN  we  hear  the  music  ringing 
In  the  bright  celestial  dome — 
When  sweet  angels*  voices  singing, 
Gladly  bid  us  welcome  home 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  lOJ 

To  the  land  of  ancient  story, 

Where  the  spirit  knows  no  care 
In  that  land  of  life  and  glory — 

Shall  we  know  each  other  there  ? 

When  the  holy  angels  meet  us, 

As  we  go  to  join  their  band. 
Shall  we  know  the  friends  that  greet  us 

In  that  glorious  spirit  land  ? 
Shall  we  see  the  same  eyes  shining 

On  us,  as  in  days  of  yore  ? 
Shall  we  feel  the  dear  arms  twining 

Fondly  round  us,  as  before  ? 

Yes,  my  earth-worn  soul  rejoices, 

And  my  weary  heart  grows  light, 
For  the  thrilling  angels'  voices, 

And  the  angel  faces  bright, 
That  shall  welcome  us  in  heaven, 

Are  the  loved  ones  long  ago  ; 
And  to  them  'tis  kindly  given 

Thus  their  mortal  friends  to  know. 

O  ye  weary,  sad  and  tossed  ones. 

Droop  not,  faint  not  by  the  way ; 
Ye  shall  join  the  loved  and  just  ones 

In  that  land  of  perfect  day. 
Harp-strings  touched  by  angel  fingers  ; 

Murmured  in  my  rapturous  ear  ; 
Evermore  their  sweet  song  lingers  : 

*'  We  shall  know  each  other  there." 


I08  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 


REMINDERS  OF  HEANEN. 


Anonymous. 


WHEN  I  gaze  on  the  light  of  yon  beautiful  sky, 
And  the  curtains  of  azure  unfolded  on  high  ; 
Their  glory  and  splendor  recall  to  my  thought 
The  bhssful  inheritance  Jesus  hath  bought : 
I  fancy  the  portals  of  heaven  appear, 
And  I  feel  at  the  moment — My  home  is  not  here. 

When  I  see  all  around  me  the  flowers  so  bright, 
Which  God  has  implanted  to  ravish  my  sight ; 
I  hail  them  as  pledges  of  heavenly  love, 
And  think  of  the  brighter  ones  blooming  above  : 
Their  fragrance  reminds  me  of  hopes  that  are  dear, 
And  I  love  to  remember — My  home  is  not  here. 

When  I  hear  the  glad  song  of  the  lark  as  she  flies, 
Still  warbling  her  notes  as  she  mounts  to  the  skies  ; 
I  think  of  the  time  when  my  heavenward  flight 
Will,  like  hers,  be  directed  to  regions  of  light  ; 
I  shall  sing  as  I  leave  every  trouble  and  fear — 
My  home  is  in  heaven — My  home  is  not  here  ! 

O  land  of  enjoyment !  O  home  of  my  heart. 

What  blessed  delight  can  thy  image  impart ; 

In  the  midst  of  affliction,  of  sorrow,  and  grief, 

One  thought  of  thy  glory  brings  instant  relief. 

And  quickly  the  darkening  clouds  disappear. 

As  the  feeling  steals  o'er  me — My  home  is  not  here. 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  IO9 


REST  IN  HEAVEN. 


William  B.  Tappan. 


THERE  is  an  hour  of  peaceful  rest 
To  mourning  wanderers  given  ; 
There  is  a  joy  for  souls  distressed, 
A  balm  for  every  wounded  breast ; 
'Tis  found  above — in  heaven. 

There  is  a  soft,  a  downy  bed, 

'Tis  fair  as  breath  of  even  ; 
A  couch  for  weary  mortals  spread, 
Where  they  may  rest  the  aching  head. 

And  find  repose — in  heaven. 

There  is  a  home  for  weary  souls 

By  sin  and  sorrow  driven  ; 
When  tossed  on  life's  tempestuous  shoals, 
Where  storms  arise,  and  ocean  rolls, 

And  all  is  drear — but  heaven. 

There  Faith  lifts  up  her  cheerful  eye. 

To  brighter  prospects  given, 
And  views  the  tempest  passing  by, 
The  evening  shadows  quickly  fly. 

And  all  serene — in  heaven. 

There  fragrant  flowers  immortal  bloom. 
And  joys  supreme  are  given  ; 

There  rays  divine  disperse  the  gloom ; 

Beyond  the  confines  of  the  tomb 
Appears  the  dawn  of  heaven. 


flO  HEAVEN   IN  SONG. 


SCORNING  HEAVEN. 


John  Milton.     Speech  of  Belial. 


WHAT  place  can  be  for  us 
Within    heaven's  bound,   unless   heaven's  lord 
supreme 
We  overpow'r!     Suppose  He  should  relent, 
And  publish  grace  to  all,  on  promise  made 
Of  new  subjection  ;  with  what  eyes  could  we 
Stand  in  His  presence  humble,  and  receive 
Strict  laws  impos'd,  to  celebrate  His  throne 
With  warbled  hymns,  and  to  His  godhead  sing 
Forc'd  hallelujahs ;  while  he  lordly  sits 
Our  envied  Sov'reign,  and  His  altar  breathes 
Ambrosial  odors,  and  ambrosial  flowers. 
Our  servile  off 'rings?     This  must  be  our  task 
In  heav'n,  this  our  delight ;  how  wearisome 
Eternity  so  spent,  in  worship  paid 
To  whom  we  hate  ! 


MEDITATION  OF  HEAVEN. 


Isaac  Watts. 


"  I  will  lift  up  Mine  Eyes  to  the  Hills." 

MY  thoughts  surmount  these  lower  skies, 
And  look  within  the  veil : 
There  springs  of  endless  pleasure  rise  ; 
The  waters  never  fail. 


NATURE    OF   HEAVEN.  Ill 

There  I  behold,  with  sweet  deHght, 

The  blessed  Three  in  One  ; 
And  strong  affections  fix  my  sight 

On  God's  incarnate  Son. 

His  promise  stands  forever  firm  ; 

His  grace  shall  ne'er  depart  : 
He  binds  my  name  upon  his  arm, 

And  seals  it  on  his  heart. 

Light  are  the  pains  that  Nature  brings: 

How  short  our  sorrows  are, 
When,  with  eternal,  future  things. 

The  present  we  compare  ! 

I  would  not  be  a  stranger  still 

To  that  celestial  place, 
Where  I  forever  hope  to  dwell 

Near  my  Redeemer's  face. 


COME  UP  HITHER. 


Edwin  H.  Nevin. 


"/~^OME  Up  hither,  come  away," 

V-^  Thus  the  ransomed  spirits  sing 
Here  is  cloudless,  endless  day ; 
Here  is  everlasting  Spring. 


112  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Come  up  hither  ;  come  and  dwell 
With  the  living  hosts  above  : 

Come,  and  let  your  bosoms  swell 
With  their  burning  songs  of  love. 

Come  up  hither ;  come  and  share 
In  the  sacred  joys  that  rise, 

Like  an  ocean,  everywhere 

Through  the  myriads  of  the  skies. 

Come  up  hither;  come  and  shine 
In  the  robes  of  spotless  white. 

Palms  and  harps  and  crowns  are  thine  : 
Hither,  hither,  wing  your  flight ! 

Come  up  hither,  hither  speed  : 
Rest  is  found  in  heaven  alone. 

Here  is  all  the  wealth  you  need  : 

Come,  and  make  this  wealth  your  own. 


HEARTS  UNITED. 


Albert  Laighton. 


"That  They  may  be  One,  even  as  We  are  One." 

THIS  world  is  bright  and  fair,  we  know 
The  skies  are  arched  in  glory  ; 
The  stars  shine  on,  the  sweet  flowers  blow, 
And  tell  their  blessed  story. 


NATURE    OF    HEAVEN.  I  I3 

But  softer  than  the  summer's  breath, 

And  fairer  than  its  roses, 
Will  be  the  clime  afar,  when  Death 

The  pearly  gate  uncloses, — 

The  land  where  broken  ties  shall  twine, 

And  fond  hearts  will  not  sever  , 
Where  love's  pure  light  shall  brighter  shine, 

Forever  and  forever. 


OUR  ABIDING  CITY. 


John  Kelly. 


"  \7l /E'VE  no  abiding  city  here." 

V  V      This  may  distress  the  worldly  mind  ; 

But  should  not  cost  the  saint  a  tear, 
Who  hopes  a  better  rest  to  find. 

"  We've  no  abiding  city  here," — 

Sad  truth,  were  this  to  be  our  home  ; 

But  let  this  thought  our  spirits  cheer, 
''  We  seek  a  city  yet  to  come." 

"  We've  no  abiding  city  here," 

We  seek  a  city  out  of  sight : 
Zion  its  name,  the  Lord  is  there, 

It  shines  with  everlasting  light. 

O  sweet  abode  of  peace  and  love. 

Where  pilgrims  freed  from  toil  are  blest, — 
Had  I  the  pinions  of  the  dove, 

I'd  fly  to  thee  and  be  at  rest. 


114  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


HASTENING  HOME. 


John  Burton. 


"  How  short  my  time  is ! 


TIME  is  winging  us  away 
To  our  eternal  home  : 
Life  is  but  a  winter's  day, — 

A  journey  to  the  tomb. 
Youth  and  vigor  soon  will  flee, 

Blooming  beauty  lose  its  charms 
All  that's  m.ortal  soon  shall  be 
^  Enclosed  in  Death's  cold  arms. 

Time  is  winging  us  away 

To  our  eternal  home  : 
Life  is  but  a  winter's  day, — 

A  journey  to  the  tomb. 
But  the  Christian  shall  enjoy 

Health  and  beauty  soon  above  ; 
Far  beyond  the  world's  alloy, 

Secure  in  Jesus'  love. 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  II5 


THE  DISTANT  SHORE. 


From  Fraser's  Magazine. 


U 


The  land  that  is  very  far  off." 

pon  the  shore 
Of  Evermore, 
We  sport,  like  children  at  their  play ; 
And  gather  shells 
Where  sinks  and  swells 
The  mighty  sea  from  far  away. 

Upon  that  beach. 

Nor  voice  nor  speech 
Doth  things  intelligible  say  ; 

But  through  our  souls 

A  whisper  rolls, 
That  comes  to  us  from  far  away. 

Into  our  ears 

The  voice  of  years 
Comes  deeper,  deeper,  day  by  day : 

We  stoop  to  hear. 

As  it  draws  near. 
Its  awfulness  from  far  away. 

At  what  it  tells, 

We  drop  the  shells 
We  were  so  fond  of  yesterday  ; 

And  pick  no  more 

Upon  that  shore, 
But  dream  of  brighter,  far  away. 


Il6  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

And  o'er  that  tide, 

Far  out  and  wide, 
The  yearnings  of  our  souls  do  stray : 

We  long  to  go, 

We  do  not  know 
Where  it  may  be,  but  far  away. 

The  mighty  deep 

Doth  slowly  creep 
Up  on  the  shore  where  we  did  play ; 

The  very  sand, 

Where  we  did  stand 
A  moment  since,  swept  far  away. 

We'll  trust  the  wave, 

And  Him  to  save, 
Beneath  whose  feet  as  marble  lay 

The  rolling  deep ; 

For  He  can  keep 
Our  souls,  in  that  dim  far  away. 


HEAVEN  AND  EARTH  CONTRASTED. 


Thomas  Moorb. 


"  Great  is  your  reward  in  heaven." 

THIS  world  is  all  a  fleeting  show, 
For  man's  illusion  given. 
The  smiles  of  joy,  the  tears  of  woe. 
Deceitful  shine,  deceitful  flow  : 
There's  nothing  true,  but  heaven. 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  II7 

And  false  the  light  on  glory's  plume 

As  fading  hues  of  even  ; 
And  love  and  hope  and  beauty's  bloom 
Are  blossoms  gathered  for  the  tomb . 

There's  nothing  bright,  but  heaven. 

Poor  wanderers  of  a  stormy  day, 

From  wave  to  wave  we're  driven  ; 
And  fancy's  flash,  and  reason's  ray, 
Serve  but  to  hght  the  troubled  way : 
There's  nothing  calm,  but  heaven. 


THE  SPOTLESS  ROBE. 


Thomas  Moore. 


"Put  on  thy  beautiful  garments." 

THE  golden  palace  of  my  God 
Towering  above  the  clouds  I  see, 
Beyond  the  cherubs'  bright  abode. 
Higher  than  angels'  thoughts  can  be. 

How  can  I  in  those  courts  appear, 
Without  a  wedding-garment  on? 

Conduct  me,  thou  Life-giv*er,  there. 
Conduct  me  to  thy  glorious  throne, 

And  clothe  me  with  thy  robes  of  light. 

And  lead  me  through  Sin's  darksome  night, 
My  Saviour  and  my  God ! 


Il8  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


THE  PROMISED  MANSIONS. 


Richard  Cumberland.     From  his  epic  poem,  Calvary. 


"  I  go  to  prepare  a  place  for  you." 

LET  not  your  hearts  be  troubled  :  ye  believe 
In  God  ;  believe  also  in  me,  his  Son. 
Doubt  not  but  in  the  compass  of  the  heavens 
My  father  will  provide  for  all  his  saints 
Mansions  of  peace,  seats  of  eternal  bliss, 
Where  spirits  made  perfect  after  death  shall  dwell, 
And  rest  from  earthly  toils :  thither  I  go 
To  seal  your  sure  election,  and  prepare 
For  you,  my  faithful  servants,  an  abode. 
That,  as  in  sorrow  here,  so  there  in  bliss 
With  me,  your  Lord,  now  dying  for  your  sakes, 
Ye  may  surmount  the  grave,  and  ever  live 
In  heavenly  communion  undisturbed. 
Lament  not,  therefore,  if  I  now  depart. 
Your  provident  Precursor  ;  for  ye  know 
Whither  I  go,  and  also  know  the  way. 


NATURE  OF  HEAVEN.  II9 


THE  DEBT  OF  HEAVEN  TO  EARTH. 


Thomas  H.  Gill. 


LORD  !  leadeth  not  this  desert  land 
To  our  bright  home  with  Thee? 
Dost  Thou  not  mean  Thy  pilgrim  band 
The  Golden  Gates  to  see  ? 

Yet  may  we  carry  to  our  home 

Gifts  in  the  desert  given  ; 
Thou  would'st  not  have  Thy  pilgrims  come 

All  empty  to  Thy  Heaven. 

Bright  Angels !  on  your  store  alone 

We  shall  not  need  to  live  ; 
We  bring  you  something  of  our  own 

Our  God's  dear  gifts  we  give. 

We  bring  the  strength  by  Him  conferred 

Unto  the  Heavenly  Host  ; 
We  bring  the  shame  for  Him  incurred 

To  be  our  endless  boast ; 

We  bring  the  wounds  on  earth  that  bled 

To  have  sweet  healing  given  ; 
We  bring  the  tears  on  earth  we  shed 

To  find  them  smiles  in  Heaven. 

Your  burning  love  the  flame  we  lend 

That  here  so  humbly  burned  ; 
And  with  your  awful  love  we  blend 

The  love  on  earth  we  learned. 


120  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

We  bring  you  each  endeavor  fair 
That  made  earth's  darkness  shine  ; 

Each  triumph  o'er  the  foe  ye  share, 
Each  victory  divine. 

Each  precious,  pure  delight  that  made 

The  Vale  of  Tears  less  sad. 
Doth  help  the  joys  that  never  fade, 

Doth  make  the  angels  glad. 

O  happy  Golden  Hours  below ! 

Your  glory  hath  not  gone  : 
The  grateful  years  eternal  flow 

More  bright  because  ye  shone. 

On  earth  we  sing  our  heavenly  songs, 

With  holy  fire  we  burn  ; 
O  Golden  Harps !     O  angel  tongues  ! 

Our  strains  ye  too  may  learn. 

Dear  Lord  !  whose  grace  on  earth  we  taste, 
Whose  glory  down  doth  come, 

Thou  meanest  not  these  gifts  for  waste, 
May  we  not  bear  them  home  ? 

May  we  not,  richly-laden,  make 
-  The  wealth  of  Heaven  the  more, 
And  bringing  gifts  divine,  partake 
The  sweet  celestial  store  ? 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  121 


JOYFUL  HASTE. 


William  Hunter. 


JOYFULLY,  joyfully  onward  I  move, 
Bound  for  the  land  of  bright  spirits  above ; 
Angelic  choristers  sing  as  I  come, 
Joyfully,  joyfully  haste  to  thy  home  ! 
Soon  with  my  pilgrimage  ended  below, 
Home  to  that  land  of  delight  will  I  go ; 
Pilgrim  and  stranger  no  more  shall  I  roam, 
Joyfully,  joyfully  resting  at  home. 

Friends,  fondly  cherished,  have  passed  on  before; 
Waiting,  they  watch  me  approaching  the  shore ; 
Singing  to  cheer  me  through  death's  chilling  gloom 
Joyfully,  joyfully  haste  to  thy  home. 
Sounds  of  sweet  melody  fall  on  my  ear ; 
Harps  of  the  blessed,  your  voices  I  hear  ! 
Rings  with  the  harmony  heaven's  high  dome — 
Joyfully,  joyfully  haste  to  thy  home. 

Death,  with  thy  weapons  of  war  lay  me  low, 
Strike,  king  of  terrors  !  I  fear  not  the  blow  ; 
Jesus  hath  broken  the  bars  of  the  tomb! 
Joyfully,  joyfully  will  I  go  home. 
Bright  will  the  morn  of  eternity  dawn. 
Death  shall  be  banished,  his  sceptre  be  gone ; 
Joyfully,  then,  shall  I  witness  his  doom, 
Joyfully,  joyfully,  safely  at  home. 

6 


122  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


HOME,  SWEET  HOME. 


Sir  John  Denham. 


MID  scenes  of  confusion  and  creature  complaints, 
How    sweet    to   my  soul   is    communion    with 
saints ; 
To  find  at  the  banquet  of  mercy  there's  room, 
And  feel  in  the  presence  of  Jesus  at  home. 
Home  !  home  !  sweet,  sweet  home  ! 
Prepare  me,  dear  Saviour,  for  glory,  my  home. 

Sweet  bonds  that  unite  all  the  children  of  peace ! 
And  thrice  precious  Jesus,  whose  love  cannot  cease  ! 
Though  oft  from  thy  presence  in  sadness  I  roam, 
I  long  to  behold  thee  in  glory,  at  home. 
Home  !  home  !  etc. 

I  sigh  from  this  body  of  sin  to  be  free. 
Which  hinders  my  joy  and  communion  with  thee  ; 
Though  now  my  temptation  like  billows  may  foam, 
All,  all  will  be  peace,  when  I'm  with  thee  at  home. 
Home  !  home  !  etc. 

While  here  in  the  valley  of  conflict  I  stay. 
Oh  give  me  submission,  and  strength  as  my  day; 
In  all  my  afflictions  to  thee  would  I  come. 
Rejoicing  in  hope  of  my  glorious  home. 
Home  !  home  !  etc. 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  I23 

Whate'er  thou  deniest,  oh  give  me  thy  grace, 
The  Spirit's  sure  witness,  and  smiles  of  thy  face  ; 
Endue  me  with  patience  to  wait  at  thy  throne, 
And  find,  even  now,  a  sweet  foretaste  of  home. 
Home  !  home  !  etc. 

I  long,  dearest  Lord,  in  thy  beauties  to  shine ; 
No  more  as  an  exile  in  sorrow  to  pine  ; 
And  in  thy  dear  image  arise  from  the  tomb. 
With  glorified  millions  to  praise  thee  at  home. 

Home  !  home  !  sweet,  sweet  home  ! 

Prepare  me,  dear  Saviour,  for  glory,  my  home. 


FAITH'S  CHOICE. 


Isaac  Watts. 

WHAT  sinners  value  I  resign  ; 
Lord,  'tis  enough  that  thou  art  mine ; 
I  shall  behold  thy  blissful  face. 
And  stand  complete  in  righteousness.   . 

This  life's  a  dream,  an  empty  show, 
But  the  bright  world  to  which  I  go 
Hath  joys  substantial  and  sincere  ; 
When  shall  I  wake  and  find  me  there ! 

Oh,  glorious  hour!  oh,  blest  abode  ! 
I  shall  be  near  and  like  my  God  ; 
And  flesh  and  sin  no  more  control 
The  sacred  pleasures  of  the  soul. 


124  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

My  flesh  shall  slumber  in  the  ground 
Tin  the  last  trumpet's  joyful  sound  ; 
Then  burst  the  chains  with  sweet  surprise, 
And  in  my  Saviour's  image  rise! 


"LAND  A-HEAD.'* 

"  T     AND  a-head  !  "  its  fruits  are  waving 
J — '  O'er  the  hills  of  fadeless  green  ; 
And  the  living  waters  laving 

Shores  where  heavenly  forms  are  seen. 

Onward,  bark  !  the  cape  I'm  rounding, 
See,  the  blessed  wave  their  hands ; 

Hear  the  harps  of  God  resounding 
From  the  bright  immortal  bands. 

There,  let  go  the  anchor,  riding 

On  this  calm  and  silvery  bay; 
Seaward  fast  the  tide  is  gliding, 

Shores  in  sunlight  stretch  away. 

Now  we're  safe  from  all  temptation, 
All  the  storms  of  life  are  past ; 

Praise  the  Rock  of  our  Salvation, 
We  are  safe  at  home  at  last ! 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  I 25 


HEAVEN'S  DAWN. 


Thomas  Gibbons. 


NOW  let  our  souls,  on  wings  sublimCj 
Rise  from  the  vanities  of  time, 
Draw  back  the  parting  veil,  and  see 
The  glories  of  eternity. 

Born  by  a  new  celestial  birth. 
Why  should  we  grovel  here  on  earth  ? 
Why  grasp  at  transitory  toys, 
So  near  to  heaven's  eternal  joys  ? 

Shall  aught  beguile  us  on  the  road, 
When  we  are  walking  back  to  God  ? 
For  strangers  into  life  we  come. 
And  dying  is  but  going  home. 

To  dwell  with  God,  to  feel  his  love, 
Is  the  full  heaven  enjoy'd  above  ; 
And  the  sweet  expectation  now 
Is  the  young  dawn  of  heaven  below. 


126  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


THE  SHADOWLESS, 


G.  Robins. 


THERE  is  a  land  mine  eye  hath  seen, 
In  visions  of  enraptured  thought, 
So  bright,  that  all  which  spreads  between 
Is  with  its  radiant  glories  fraught. 

A  land,  upon  whose  blissful  shore 

There  rests  no  shadow,  falls  no  stain  ; 

There  those  who  meet  shall  part  no  more, 
And  those  long  parted  meet  again. 

Its  skies  are  not  like  earthly  skies. 

With  varying  hues  of  shade  and  Hght , 
It  hath  no  need  of  suns  to  rise 
To  dissipate  the  gloom  of  night. 

There  sweeps  no  desolating  wind 
Across  that  calm,  serene  abode  ; 

The  wanderer  there  a  home  may  find 
Within  the  paradise  of  God. 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  12/ 


HEAVENLY  CANAAN. 


Isaac  Watts. 


THERE  is  a  land  of  pure  delight, 
Where  saints  immortal  reign ; 
Infinite  day  excludes  the  night, 
And  pleasures  banish  pain. 

There  everlasting  spring  abides, 
And  never-withering  flowers  ; 

Death,  like  a  narrow  sea,  divides 
This  heavenly  land  from  ours. 

Sweet  fields  beyond  the  swelling  flood 
Stand  dressed  in  living  green  ; 

So  to  the  Jews  old  Canaan  stood, 
While  Jordan  rolled  between. 

But  timorous  mortals  start  and  shrink 

To  cross  this  narrow  sea, 
And  linger  shivering  on  the  brink. 

And  fear  to  launch  away. 

Oh,  could  we  make  our  doubts  remove, 
Those  gloomy  doubts  that  rise, 

And  see  the  Canaan  that  we  love 
With  unbeclouded  eyes! — 


128  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Could  we  but  climb  where  Moses  stood, 
And  view  the  landscape  o'er, 

Not  Jordan's  stream  nor  death's  cold  flood 
Should  fright  us  from  the  shore. 


HOPE  OF  OUR  HEARTS. 


Sir  Edward  Denny. 


HOPE  of  our  hearts,  O  Lord,  appear, 
Thou  glorious  Star  of  day  ! 
Shine  forth,  and  chase  the  dreary  night, 
With  all  our  tears,  away. 

No  resting-place  we  seek  on  earth, 

No  loveliness  we  see  ; 
Our  eye  is  on  the  royal  crown. 

Prepared  for  us  by  Thee. 

But,  dearest  Lord,  however  bright 

That  crown  of  joy  above. 
What  is  it  to  the  brighter  hope 

Of  dwelling  in  Thy  love  ? 

What  to  the  joy,  the  deeper  joy, 

Unmingled,  pure,  and  free, 
Of  union  with  our  living  Head, 

Of  fellowship  with  Thee  ? 

This  joy  e'en  now  on  earth  is  ours  ; 

But  only,  Lord,  above, 
Our  hearts,  without  a  pang,  shall  know 

The  fullness  of  Thy  love. 


NATURE    OF   HEAVEN.  1 29 

There,  near  Thy  heart,  upon  the  throne, 

Thy  ransomed  bride  shall  see 
What  grace  was  in  the  bleeding  Lamb, 

Who  died  to  make  her  free. 


THE  WELCOME  DAY. 


Isaac  Watts. 


LO  !  what  a  glorious  sight  appears 
To  our  believing  eyes  ! 
The  earth  and  seas  are  passed  away, 
And  the  old  rolling  skies. 

From  the  third  heaven,  where  God  resides, 

That  holy,  happy  place. 
The  new  Jerusalem  comes  down, 

Adorned  with  shining  grace 

Attending  angels  shout  for  joy. 

And  the  bright  armies  sing — 
"  Mortals,  behold  the  sacred  seat 

Of  your  descending  King: 

"  The  God  of  glory  down  to  men 

Removes  His  blest  abode  ! 
Men,  the  dear  objects  of  His  grace, 

And  He  the  loving  God : 

"  His  own  kind  hand  shall  wipe  the  tears 

From  every  weeping  eye ; 
And  pains,  and  groans,  and  griefs,  and  fears, 

And  death  itself,  shall  die." 
6* 


130  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

How  long,  dear  Saviour,  oh,  how  long 
Shall  this  bright  hour  delay  ? 

Fly  swifter  round,  ye  wheels  of  time, 
And  bring  the  welcome  day  ! 


I  THITHER  LIFT  MY  EYES. 


Benjamin  Beddome. 


THERE  is  a  world  of  perfect  bliss 
Above  the  starry  skies  ; 
Oppressed  with  sorrows  and  with  sins, 
I  thither  lift  my  eyes. 

'Tis  there  the  weary  are  at  rest, 

And  all  is  peace  within ; 
The  mind,  with  guilt  no  more  oppressed, 

Is  tranquil  and  serene. 

Discord  and  strife  are  banished  thence. 

Distrust  and  slavish  fear ; 
No  more  we  hear  the  pensive  sigh, 

Or  see  the  falling  tear. 

Farewell  to  earth  and  earthly  things ; 

In  vain  ye  tempt  my  stay : 
Come,  angels,  spread  your  joyful  wings. 

And  bear  my  soul  away ! 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  I31 


PARADISE  RESTORED. 


Charles  Wesley. 


JESUS,  to  thy  dear  wounds  we  flee, 
We  seek  thy  bleeding  side, 
Assured  that  all  who  trust  in  thee 
Shall  evermore  abide. 

Then  let  the  thundering  trumpet  sound, 

The  latest  lightning  glare  ; 
The  mountains  melt ;  the  solid  ground 

Dissolve  as  liquid  air : 

The  huge,  celestial  bodies  roll. 

Amidst  that  general  fire  ; 
And  shrivel  as  a  parchment  scroll. 

And  all  in  smoke  expire. 

Sublime  upon  his  azure  throne, 
He  speaks — the  Almighty  Word  ; 

His  fiat  is  obeyed  !  'tis  done  ; 
And  Paradise  restored ! 

So  be  it !  let  this  system  end, 
This  ruined  earth  and  skies ; 

The  New  Jerusalem  descend, 
The  New  Creation  rise. 


132  HEAVEN  IN   SONG. 


ARISE,  FLY  UP,  AND  RUN. 


Isaac  Watts. 


ARISE,  my  soul !  fly  up,  and  run 
Through  every  heavenly  street ; 
And  say  there's  nought  below  the  sun 
That's  worthy  of  thy  feet. 

There,  on  a  high,  majestic  throne, 
Th'  Almighty  Father  reigns. 

And  sheds  His  glorious  goodness  down 
On  all  the  blissful  plains. 

Bright,  like  a  sun,  the  Saviour  sits, 

And  spreads  eternal  noon  ; 
No  evenings  there,  nor  gloomy  nights, 

To  need  the  feeble  moon. 

Amidst  those  ever-shining  skies 

Behold  the  Sacred  Dove  ; 
While  banished  sin  and  sorrow  flies 

From  all  the  realms  of  love. 

But  oh,  what  beams  of  heavenly  grace 
Transport  them  all  the  while  ! 

Ten  thousand  smiles  from  Jesus'  face. 
And  love  in  every  smile ! 


NATURE    OF   HEAVEN.  I 33 

Jesus,  and  when  shall  that  dear  day, 

That  joyful  hour  appear, 
When  I  shall  leave  this  house  of  clay, 

To  dwell  among  them  there  ? 


WRECK  OF   THE   UNIVERSE. 


Mather  Bvles. 


WHEN  wild  confusion  wrecks  the  air. 
And  tempests  rend  the  skies ; 
Whilst  blended  ruin,  clouds  and  fire 
In  harsh  disorder  rise  ; — 

Safe  in  my  Saviour's  love  I'll  stand, 

And  strike  a  tuneful  song  ; 
My  harp  all  trembling  in  my  hand, 

And  all  inspired  my  tongue. 

I'll  shout  aloud,  "  Ye  thunders.,  roll. 

And  shake  the  sullen  sky ; 
Your  sounding  voice,  from  pole  to  pole, 

In  angry  murmurs  try  : 

"  Let  the  earth  totter  on  her  base. 
And  clouds  the  heavens  deform  ; 

Blow,  all  ye  winds,  from  every  place, 
And  rush  the  final  storm  ! " 

Come  quickly,  blessed  Lord,  appear — 

Bid  the  swift  chariot  fly ; 
Let  angels  tell  Thy  coming  near, 

And  snatch  me  to  the  sky. 


134  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Around  Thy  wheels,  in  the  glad  throng, 

I'd  bear  a  joyful  part ; 
All  hallelujah  on  my  tongue — 

All  rapture  in  my  heart. 


WE  SEEK  THE  PROMISED  SOIL. 


Anna  L^titia  Barbauld. 


OUR  country  is  Immanuel's  ground — 
We  seek  that  promised  soil ; 
The  songs  of  Zion  cheer  our  hearts, 
While  strangers  here  we  toil. 

Oft  do  our  eyes  with  joy  o'erflow, 

And  oft  are  bathed  in  tears ; 
Yet  naught  but  heaven  our  hopes  can  raise, 

And  naught  but  sin  our  fears. 

The  flowers  that  spring  along  the  road 

We  scarcely  stoop  to  pluck ; 
We  walk  o'er  beds  of  shining  ore. 

Nor  waste  one  wishful  look. 

We  tread  the  path  our  Master  trod  ; 

We  bear  the  cross  He  bore  ; 
And  every  thorn  that  wounds  our  feet 

His  temples  pierced  before. 


NATURE  OF  HEAVEN.  1 35 


«0  FOR  THE  PEARLY  GATES." 


Cecil  Francis  Alexander. 


OH,  for  the  pearly  gates  of  heaven! 
Oh  for  the  golden  floor ! 
Oh,  for  the  Sun  of  Righteousness, 
That  setteth  nevermore  ! 

The  highest  hopes  we  cherish  here, 
How  soon  they  tire  and  faint ! 

How  many  a  spot  defiles  the  robe 
That  wraps  the  earthly  saint ! 

Oh,  for  a  heart  that  never  sins ! 

Oh,  for  a  soul  washed  white ! 
Oh,  for  a  voice  to  praise  our  King, 

Nor  weary  day  nor  night ! 

Here  faith  is  ours,  and  heavenly  hope, 
And  grace  to  lead  us  higher. 

But  there  are  perfectness  and  peace, 
Beyond  our  best  desire. 

Oh,  by  Thy  love  and  anguish.  Lord, 

And  by  Thy  life  laid  down, 
Grant  that  we  fail  not  of  Thy  grace, 
Nor  fail  to  reach  our  crown  ! 


136  HEAVEN   IN  SONG. 


THERE  IS  A   FOLD  WHENCE  NONE  CAN 
STRAY. 


Bishop  East. 


THERE  is  a  fold  whence  none  can  stray 
And  pastures  ever  green, 
Where  sultry  sun,  or  stormy  day, 
Or  night  is  ever  seen. 

Far  up  the  everlasting  hills 

In  God's  own  Hght  it  lies ; 
His  smile  its  vast  dimensions  fills 

With  joy  that  never  dies. 

One  narrow  vale,  one  darksome  wave, 

Divides  that  land  from  this : 
I  have  a  Shepherd  pledged  to  save 

And  bear  me  home  to  bliss. 

Soon  at  His  feet  my  soul  will  lie 
In  Hfe's  last  struggling  breath  ; 

But  I  shall  only  seem  to  die, 
I  shall  not  taste  of  death. 

Far  from  this  guilty  world  to  be 

Exempt  from  toil  and  strife — 
To  spend  eternity  with  Thee — 

My  Saviour  this  is  life ! 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  1 37 


NAME  EVER  DEAR  TO  ME. 


Latin  Hymn,  8th  Cent.    In  Eckington  Col.  1790. 


JERUSALEM,  my  happy  home, 
Name  ever  dear  to  me  ! 
When  shall  my  labors  have  an  end 
In  joy  and  peace,  in  thee  ? 

When  shall  these  eyes  thy  heaven-built  walls 

And  pearly  gates  behold  ? 
Thy  bulwarks  with  salvation  strong, 

And  streets  of  shining  gold  ? 

Oh  when,  thou  city  of  my  God, 

Shall  I  thy  courts  ascend, 
Where  congregations  ne'er  break  up, 

And  Sabbaths  have  no  end  ? 

There  happier  bowers  than  Eden's  bloom, 

Nor  sin  nor  sorrow  know  : 
Blest  seats !  through  rude  and  stormy  scenes 

I  onward  press  to  you. 

Why  should  I  shrink  at  pain  and  woe. 

Or  feel  at  death  dismay  ? 
I've  Canaan's  goodly  land  in  view, 

And  realms  of  endless  day. 


138  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

Apostles,  martyrs,  prophets,  there 
Around  my  Saviour  stand  ; 

And  soon  my  friends  in  Christ  below 
Will  join  the  glorious  band. 

Jerusalem,  my  happy  home  ! 

My  soul  still  pants  for  thee  ; 
Then  shall  my  labors  have  an  end, 

When  I  thy  joys  shall  see. 


THE  OTHER  SIDE. 


Anonymous. 


WE  dwell  this  side  of  Jordan's  stream, 
Yet  oft  there  comes  a  shining  beam 
Across  from  yonder  shore  ; 
While  visions  of  a  holy  throng, 
And  sound  of  harp  and  seraph  song, 
Seem  gently  wafted  o'er. 

The  other  side  !  oh,  happy  place, 
Where  saints  in  joy  past  times  retrace. 

And  think  of  trials  gone  ; 
The  veil  withdrawn,  they  clearly  see, 
That  all  on  earth  had  need  to  be. 

To  bring  them  safely  home. 

The  other  side  !  oh  charming  side ! 
Along  its  banks  still  waters  glide, 

And  many  a  loved  one  waits  ; 
Across  the  stream  they  call  to  me, — 
"  Fear  not — we  stay  to  welcome  thee 

Beside  the  pearly  gates." 


NATURE    OF   HEAVEN.  I39 

The  other  side  !  the  other  side  ! 
Who  would  not  brave  the  swelling  tide 
Of  earthly  toil  and  care, 
To  wake  one  day,  when  life  is  past, 
Over  the  stream,  at  home  at  last, 
With  all  the  bless'd  ones  there  ? 


CHILDREN  OF  THE  KINGDOM. 


Anne  Shepherd. 


AROUND  the  throne  of  God  in  heaven 
Thousands  of  children  stand  ; 
Children  whose  sins  are  all  forgiven, 
A  holy,  happy  band. 

In  flowing  robes  of  spotless  white 

See  every  one  arrayed  ; 
Dwelling  in  everlasting  light. 

And  joys  that  never  fade. 

What  brought  them  to  that  world  above. 
That  heav'n  so  bright  and  fair. 

Where  all  is  peace,  and  joy,  and  love  ; — 
How  came  those  children  there  ? 

Because  the  Saviour  shed  his  blood, 

To  wash  away  their  sin  ; 
Bathed  in  that  pure  and  precious  flood, 

Behold  them  white  and  clean  ! 


I40  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

And  many  sought  the  Saviour's  grace,  — 
On  earth  they  loved  his  name ; 

So  nov/  they  see  his  blessed  face, 
And  stand  before  the  Lamb. 


WHAT  THEN? 


Anonymous. 


AFTER  the  Christian's  tears, 
After  his  fights  and  fears, 
After  his  weary  cross, — 
All  things  below  but  loss, — 
What  then  ?  what  then  ? 

Oh,  then,  a  holy  calm, 
Resting  on  Jesus'  arm  ; 
Oh,  then,  a  deeper  love 
For  the  pure  home  above. 

After  this  holy  calm. 
This  rest  on  Jesus'  arm  ; 
After  this  deepened  love 
For  the  pure  home  above. 
What  then  ?  what  then  ? 

Oh,  then,  a  work  for  him. 
Perishing  souls  to  win  : 
Then  Jesus'  presence  near, 
Death's  darkest  hour  to  cheer. 


NATURE    OF  HEAVEN.  I4I 

And  when  the  work  is  done, 
When  the  last  soul  is  won, 
When  Jesus*  love  and  power 
Have  cheered  the  dying  hour, 
What  then  ?  what  then  ? 


THE  FAVORED  OF  THEIR  JUDGE. 


Edward  Young.    ["The  Last  Day,"  Book  III.] 


THE  favored  of  their  Judge  in  triumph  move 
To  take  possession  of  their  thrones  above  ; 
To  crop  the  roses  of  immortal  youth, 
And  drink  the  fountain-head  of  sacred  truth  ; 
To  swim  in  seas  of  bliss  :  to  strike  the  string, 
And  lift  the  voice,  to  their  almighty  King ; 
To  lose  eternity  in  grateful  lays, 
And  fill  heaven's  wide  circumference  with  praise. 


NEW  HEAVENS  AND  NEW  EARTH. 


J.  Walther,  1557.     Translated  by  Catherine  Winkworth. 


HOW  fain  my  joyous  heart  would  sing 
That  lovely  summer-time. 
When  God  reneweth  everything 
In  His  celestial  prime  ; 


142  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

When  He  shall  make  new  heavens  and  earth, 

And  all  the  creatures  there 
Shall  spring  from  out  that  second  birth 

All-glorious,  pure,  and  fair. 

The  perfect  beauty  of  that  sphere 

No  mortal  tongue  may  speak ; 
We  have  no  likeness  for  it  here, 

Our  words  are  far  too  weak  ; 
And  we  must  wait  till  we  behold 

The  hour  of  judgment  true. 
That  to  the  soul  shall  all  unfold 

What  God  is,  and  can  do. 

For  God  ere  long  will  summon  all 

Who  e'er  on  earth  were  born ; 
This  flesh  shall  hear  the  trumpet's  call 

And  live  again  that  morn. 
And  when  in  Christ  His  Son  we  wake, 

These  skies  asunder  roll, 
And  all  the  bliss  of  heaven  shall  break 

Upon  the  raptured  soul. 

And  He  will  lead  the  white-robed  throng 

To  His  fair  Paradise, 
Where  from  the  marriage-feast  the  song 

Of  endless  praise  shall  rise  ; 
And  from  His  fathomless  abyss 

Of  perfect  love  and  truth. 
Shall  flow  perpetual  joy  and  bliss, 

In  never-ending  youth. 


NATURE   OF  HEAVEN.  I43 

Ah  God,  now  lead  me  of  Thy  love 

Through  this  dark  world  aright  ; 
Lord  Christ,  defend  me  lest  I  rove 

Or  lies  delude  my  sight ; 
And  keep  me  steadfast  in  the  faith 

Till  these  dark  days  have  ceased, 
All  ready  still  in  life  or  death 

For  Thy  great  marriage-feast. 

And  herewith  will  I  end  the  song 

Of  that  fair  summer-time  ; 
The  blossoms  shall  burst  out  ere  long 

Of  heaven's  eternal  prime, 
The  year  begin,  forever  new  ; 

God  grant  us  then  on  high 
To  see  our  vision  here  made  true, 

And  eat  the  fruits  of  joy ! 


AWAKE,  THE  NIGHT  IS  FLYING. 


From  the  German  of  Philip  Nicolai,  1598.     By  Catherine  Winkworth. 


\li  /"AKE,  awake,  for  night  is  flying, 
V  V     The  watchmen  on  the  heights  are  crying  ; 
Awake,  Jerusalem,  at  last ! 
Midnight  hears  the  welcome  voices, 
And  at  the  thrilling  cry  rejoices  : 

Come  forth,  ye  virgins,  night  is  past  ! 


144  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

The  Bridegroom  comes,  awake, 
Your  lamps  with  gladness  take  ; 
Hallelujah  ! 
And  for  His  marriage-feast  prepare, 
For  ye  must  go  to  meet  Him  there. 

Zion  hears  the  watchmen  singing, 
And  all  her  heart  with  joy  is  springing, 
She  wakes,  she  rises  from  her  gloom  ; 
For  her  Lord  comes  down  all-glorious, 
The  strong  in  grace,  in  truth  victorious, 
Her  Star  is  risen,  her  Light  is  come  ! 
Ah  come,  Thou  blessed  Lord, 
O  Jesus,  Son  of  God, 
Hallelujah  ! 
We  follow  till  the  halls  we  see 
Where  Thou  hast  bid  us  sup  with  Thee. 

Now  let  all  the  heavens  adore  Thee, 
And  men  and  angels  sing  before  Thee 

With  harp  and  cymbal's  clearest  tone  ; 
Of  one  pearl  each  shining  portal. 
Where  we  are  with  the  choir  immortal 
Of  angels  round  Thy  dazzling  throne. 
Nor  eye  hath  seen,  nor  ear 
Hath  yet  attain'd  to  hear 
What  there  is  ours, 
But  we  rejoice,  and  sing  to  Thee 
Our  hymn  of  joy  eternally. 


NAl'URE   OF   HEAVEN.  145 


THE  GREAT  CITY  OF  GOD. 


T.  Buchanan  Read. 


"  Heaven  lies  about  us  in  our  infancy." — Wordsworth. 

ERE  the  rose  and  the  roseate  hues  of  the  dawn, 
With  the  dews  of  my  youth,  were  all  scattered 
and  gone  ; 

Ere  the  cloud,  like  the  far-reaching  wing  of  the  night, 

Had  shut  out  the  glory  of  God  from  my  sight, 

I  saw  a  wide  realm  in  the  azure  unfold, 

Where  the  fields  nodded  towards  me  their  flowers  of 
gold; 

And  the  soft  airs  sailed  o'er  them,  and  drop't  from 
above. 

As  if  shed  from  innumerous  pinions  of  love  ; 

There  were  trees  with  broad  boles  steeped  in  perfume 
and  dew, 

With  their  full  breasts  for  ever  leaned  up  to  the  blue. 

And  within  their  wide  bosoms  the  winds  seemed  to 
rest 

With  the  calm  like  the  sleep  of  a  soul  that  is  blest ; 

Or,  if  any  light  rustle  stole  out  from  their  limbs, 

'Twas  the  murmurous  music  of  delicate  hymns, 

As  if  some  dear  angel  sat  singing  within 

To  a  spirit  just  won  from  the  regions  of  sin. 

There  were  streams  which  seemed  born  but  in  slum- 
berous bowers, 

Stealing  down,  like  a  dream,  through  the  sleep  of  the 
flowers,-  — 


146  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

So  pure  was  the  azure  they  won  from  the  height, 

The  blue  hills  seemed  melting  to  rivers  of  light  ; 

And  within  their  fair   realm,  where   but  angels  have 

trod, 
I  beheld,  as  I  thought,  the  great  CiTY  OF  GOD ! 
All   its   high   walls   were   pierced  with   no   engines  of 

Death  ; 
No  moat,  with  its  dull  pool,  lay  stagnant  beneath : 
The  last  bolts,  I  ween,  the  stout  heart  has  to  fear, 
Are  pointed  and  sped  from  Death's  citadel  here  ; 
And  the  last  hungry  moat  the  pure  soul  has  to  brave, 
Ere  it  passes  the  portal  to  bliss,  is  the  grave  ! 
There  the  wide  wall  went  East  till  it  dimmed  to  the 

view, 
And  the  wide  wall  went  West  till  it  passed  into  blue  ; 
And  the  broad  gates  stood  open,  inviting  the  way. 
Like  the  hands  of  the  Lord  to  his  children  astray. 
There    were    high    towers,    climbing    still    dazzlingly 

higher. 
Till  each  shone  like  a  fixed  guiding  pillar  of  fire  ; 
And  the  angels  who  watched  on  their  summits  afar, 
So  lessened  by  distance,  gleamed  each  as  a  star  : 
And  the  great  dome  that  templed  the  Father  in  light, 
Seemed   to  swell  and   to   circle,  and  to  swell  on  the 

sight 
As  some  angel,  who  cleaves  his  bright  way  'mid  the 

spheres, 
Beholds  the  blue  dome  of  the  earth  as  he  nears. 
There  was  music — my  soul  unto  memory  yields. 
And  hears  the  low  sounds  floating  over  the  fields  ; 
But,  alas !  not  as  then,  with  its  rapturous  desire, 
Like  some  bird  that  sits  hushed  by  the  song  of  a  choir, 


NATURE   OF    HEAVEN.  I47 

It  melted  and  flowed  o'er  the  walls  and  the  towers, 
And  sweet  as  if  breathed  from  the  lips  of  the  flowers, — 
As  if  the  bright  blossoms,  with  loving  accord, 
Had  risen  and  sang  to  the  praise  of  the  Lord  ! 
Then  I  thought  'mid  that  music  to  wander  and  wait 
For  the  loved  ones,  just  there  by  the  palm  at  the  gate, 
To  begin  the  great  life  that  no  Death  can  o'ertake, 
And  to  dream  the  great  dream   that   no   tumult   can 

break, 
In  the  broad  world  of  Beauty,  of  flowers,  and  bliss. 
But,  alas !  I  awoke  where  the  thorns  grow  in  this  : 
And  the  walls  of  Death's  citadel  now  intervene. 
And    the   grave,  like  a   moat,  yawns  here   darkly  be- 
tween : 
But  still,  through  the  mists  and  the  shadows  of  night, 
I  can  follow  the  stars  on  those  pillars  of  light  ; 
And  I  know  the  great  gates  stand   there  open    and 

broad. 
Inviting  the  way  to  the  CiTY  OF  GOD. 


THE  TRANSPARENT  THRONE. 


Jeremy  Taylor. 


O  BEAUTEOUS  God,  uncircumscribed  treasure 
Of  an  eternal  pleasure  ! 
Thy  throne  is  seated  far 
Above  the  highest  star. 
Where  thou  preparst  a  glorious  place 
Within  the  brightness  of  thy  face 


148  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

For  every  spirit 

To  inherit 
That  builds  his  hopes  upon  thy  merit, 
And  loves  thee  with  a  holy  charity. 
What  ravished  heart,  seraphic  tongue,  or  eyes 

Clear  as  the  morning's  rise, 

Can  speak,  or  think,  or  see, 

That  bright  eternity, 
Where  the  great  King's  transparent  throne 
Is  of  an  entire  jasper  stone  ? 

There  the  eye 

O'  th'  chrysoHte, 

And  a  sky 
Of  diamonds,  rubies,  chrysoprase, 
And,  above  all  thy  holy  face, 
Makes  an  eternal  clarity 
When  thou  thy  jewels  up  dost  bind  ;  that  day 

Remember  us,  we  pray, 

That  where  the  beryl  lies, 

And  the  crystal,  'bove  the  skies, 
There  thou  may'st  appoint  us  place 
Within  the  brightness  of  thy  face, 

And  our  soul 

In  the  scroll 
Of  life  and  blissfulness  enroll. 
That  we  may  praise  thee  to  eternity : 

Allelujah ! 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.   '  149 


THE  BEAUTIFUL  CITY,  ZION  THE  FREE. 

BEAUTIFUL  Zion  !  city  renowned  ! 
Through  the  universe  wide  thy  praise  shall  re- 
sound 
When  straight  from   thy   God   thou    descendest,  the 

bride, 
For  thy  husband  in  garments  of  glory  arrayed ; 
Oh  glorious  thy  beauty,  by  prophets  foretold. 
Thy  gates  of  fair  pearls,  thy  streets  of  pure  gold ! 
To  dwell  in  the  city  mine  may  it  be — 
The  beautiful  city,  Zion  the  free  ! 

Beautiful  Zion !  the  hope  of  thy  rest 

Is  a  balm  for  the  weary  and  sorrow-bound  breast ; 

From  the  bars  of  affliction,  and  struggHng  with  sighs. 

Sweet  prayers  for  thy  coming  in  breathings  arise  ; 

Eternal  the  joys  in  thy  palaces  found ; 

Forever  the  song  of  the  saved  shall  resound  ; 

To  dwell  in  the  city  mine  may  it  be — 

The  beautiful  city,  Zion  the  free. 

Beautiful  Zion!  desire  of  the  earth  ! 

No  sorrow  nor  sighing  in  thee  shall  have  birth  ; 

Prisoners  of  hope,  here  with  burdens  oppressed. 

How  long  they  to  enter  thy  portals  of  rest ! 

Thy  rivers  of  pleasure  eternally  roll. 

Anointing  with  gladness  each  blood-ransomed  soul ; 

To  dwell  in  the  city  mine  may  it  be — 

The  beautiful  city,  Zion  the  free ! 


150  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


JOYFUL  WORDS,  WE  MEET  AGAIN. 


From  the  German,  by  J.  Montgomery. 


JOYFUL  words, — we  meet  again  ! 
Love's  own  language,  comfort  darting 
Through  the  souls  of  friends  at  parting ! 
Life  in  death — we  meet  again  ! 

While  we  walk  this  vale  of  tears, 

Compassed  round  with  care  and  sorrow. 
Gloom  to-day  and  storm  to-morrow, 

"  Meet  again"  our  bosom  cheers. 

Far  in  exile  when  we  roam, 

O'er  our  lost  endearments  weeping, 
Lonely,  silent  vigils  keeping, 

*'  Meet  again"  transports  us  home. 

When  this  weary  world  is  past, 
Happy  they  whose  spirits  soaring, 
Vast  eternity  exploring, 

*'  Meet  again"  in  heaven  at  last. 


I 

NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  15I 

AN  ECHO  OF  HEAVEN. 


George  Herbert. — 1 593-1633. 


"The  Lamb  is  the  Light  thereof." 

OH  !  who  will  show  me  those  delights  on  high ? 
Echo.— I. 
Thou,  Echo  ?     Thou  art  mortal,  all  men  know. 

Echo. — No. 
Wert  thou  not  born  among  the  trees  and  leaves  ? 

Echo. — Leaves. 
And  are  there  any  leaves  that  still  abide  ? 

Echo. — Bide. 
What  leaves  are  they?     Impart  the  matter  wholly. 

Echo. — Holy. 
Are  holy  leaves  the  echo,  then,  of  bliss  ? 

Echo. — Yes. 
Then  tell  me,  what  is  that  supreme  delight  ? 

Echo. — Light. 
Light  to  the  mind :  what  shall  the  will  enjoy  ? 

Echo. — Joy. 
But  are  there  cares  and  business  with  the  pleasure  ? 

Echo. — Leisure. 
Light,  joy,  and  leisure  !  but  shall  they  persevere  } 

Echo, — Ever. 


I 

152  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

SONGS  OF  THE  BLESSED. 


From  Hymns  Ancient  and  Modem. 


'  Salvation  to  Our  God  which  sitteth  upon  the  Throne,  and  to  the  Lamb. 

O  HEAVENLY  Jerusalem 
Of  everlasting  halls  ! 
Thrice  blessed  are  the  people 
Thou  storest  in  thy  walls. 

Thou  art  the  golden  mansion 
Where  saints  forever  sing, — 

The  seat  of  God's  own  chosen, 
The  palace  of  the  King. 

There  God  forever  sitteth 

Himself  of  all  the  Crown  ; 
The  Lamb  the  Light  that  shineth, 

And  never  goeth  down. 

Naught  to  this  seat  approacheth 
Their  sweet  peace  to  molest : 

They  sing  their  God  forever, 
Nor  day  nor  night  they  rest. 

Sure  hope  doth  thither  lead  us  ; 

Our  longings  thither  tend  : 
May  short-lived  toil  ne'er  daunt  us 

For  joys  that  cannot  end. 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  1 53 


THE  LAND  OF  PROMISE. 


Thomas  Olivers. 


THE  God  of  Abraham  praise, 
Who  reigns  enthroned  above, 
Ancient  of  everlasting  days, 

And  God  of  love  ; 
Jehovah,  great  I  AM  ! 

By  heaven  and  earth  confest, 
I  bow,  and  bless  the  sacred  name, 
Forever  blest. 

The  God  of  Abraham  praise, 

At  whose  supreme  command 
From  earth  I  rise,  and  seek  the  joys 

At  his  right  hand  ; 
I  all  on  earth  forsake, 

Its  wisdom,  fame  and  power, 
And  him  my  only  portion  make, 

My  shield  and  tower. 

The  God  of  Abraham  praise. 

Whose  all-sufficient  grace 
Shall  guide  me  through  this  pilgrimage 

In  all  his  ways  ; 
He  calls  a  worm  his  friend, 

He  calls  himself  my  God  ; 
And  he  shall  save  me  to  the  end, 

Through  Jesus'  blood. 


154  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

He  by  himself  hath  sworn, 

I  on  his  oath  depend  ; 
I  shall,  on  eagles'  wings  upborne. 

To  heaven  ascend  ; 
I  shall  behold  his  face, 

I  shall  his  power  adore, 
And  sing  the  wonders  of  his  grace 

For  evermore. 

Though  nature's  strength  decay, 

And  earth  and  hell  withstand. 
To  Canaan's  bound  I  urge  my  way 

At  his  command  ; 
The  watery  deep  I  pass. 

With  Jesus  in  my  view. 
And  through  the  howling  wilderness 

My  way  pursue. 

The  goodly  land  I  see. 

With  peace  and  plenty  blest, 
A  land  of  sacred  liberty 

And  endless  rest. 
There  milk  and  honey  flow. 

And  oil  and  wine  abound, 
And  trees  of  life  forever  grow. 

With  mercy  crowned. 

There  dwells  the  Lord  our  King, 
The  Lord  our  righteousness ; 

Triumphant  o'er  the  world  and  sin, 
The  Prince  of  peace 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  155 

On  Zion's  sacred  height 

His  kingdom  still  maintains, 
And  glorious,  with  His  saints  in  light, 

Forever  reigns. 

He  keeps  His  own  secure, 

He  guards  them  by  His  side ; 
Arrays  in  garments  white  and  pure 

His  spotless  bride ; 
With  streams  of  sacred  bliss, 

With  groves  of  living  joys. 
With  all  the  fruits  of  Paradise, 

He  still  supplies. 

Before  the  Three  in  One 

They  all  exulting  stand. 
And  tell  the  wonders  He  hath  done 

Through  all  their  land  ; 
The  listening  spheres  attend, 

And  swell  the  growing  fame, 
And  sing,  in  songs  which  never  end. 

The  wondrous  name. 

The  God  who  reigns  on  high 

The  great  archangels  sing, 
And  ''  Holy,  holy,  holy,"  cry, 

''  Almighty  King  !" 
Who  was,  and  is  the  same, 

And  evermore  shall  be  ; 
Jehovah,  Father,  great  I  AM, 

We  worship  Thee. 


156  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Before  the  Saviour's  face 

The  ransomed  nations  bow, 
O'erwhelmed  at  His  almighty  grace, 

Forever  new  ;  / 

He  shows  His  prints  of  love, 

They  kindle  to  a  flame, 
And  sound,  through  all  the  world  above, 

The  slaughtered  Lamb. 

The  whole  triumphant  host 
Give  thanks  to  God  on  high ; 

Hail,  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost, 
They  ever  cry ; 

Hail,  Abraham's  God  and  mine, 
I  join  the  heavenly  lays ; 

All  might  and  majesty  be  Thine, 
And  endless  praise. 


THERE  IS  NO  MORE  SEA. 


Fysh. 


WHEN  tempests  toss,  and  billows  roll, 
And  lightnings  rend  from  pole  to  pole, 
Sweet  is  the  thought  to  me. 
That  one  day  it  shall  not  be  so ; 
In  the  bright  world  to  which  I  go 
The  tempest  shall  forget  to  blow; 
There  shall  be  no  more  sea. 


NATURE  OF  heavp:n.  1 57 

My  little  bark  has  suffered  much 
From  adverse  storms  ;  nor  is  she  such 

As  once  she  seemed  to  be  ; 
But  I  shall  shortly  be  at  home, 
No  more  a  mariner  to  roam ; 
When  once  I  to  the  port  am  come, 

There  will  be  no  more  sea.  « 

Then  let  the  waves  run  mountain  high. 
Confound  the  deep,  perplex  the  sky, — 

This  shall  not  always  be  ; 
One  day  the  sun  will  brightly  shine 
With  life,  and  light,  and  heat  divine  ; 
And  when  that  glorious  light  is  mine, 

There  will  be  no  more  sea. 

My  Pilot  tells  me  not  to  fear, 
But  trust  entirely  to  His  care, 

And  He  will  guarantee. 
If  only  I  depend  on  Him, 
To  land  me  safe,  in  His  good  time, 
In  yonder  purer,  happier  clime, 

Where  shall  be  no  more  sea. 


58  HEAVEN   IN    SONG. 


WHERE  THE  BLIND  SEE. 


Jessie    Glenn. 


OH,  I  hear  them  tell  of  a  canopy  fair, 
That  stretches  its  blue  wing  far  up  in  the  air ; 
They  say  it  is  gemmed  with  the  stars  of  night, 
That  sparkle  and  gleam  in  the  pale  moonlight ; 
But  when  I  look  up  all  is  darkness  to  me, 
For  I  cannot  see  !  I  cannot  see  ! 

I  hear  of  the  flowers  that  round  me  bloom, 
And  my  spirit  finds  joy  in  their  sweet  perfume  ; 
The  rose  and  the  clematis  surely  are  fair, 
For  feeling  can  tell  me  that  beauty  is  there ; 
But  those  lovely  tints  are  not  painted  for  me, 
For  I  cannot  see  I  I  cannot  see  ! 

The  zephyr's  sweet  wing  rustles  over  me  now, 
For  I  feel  its  soft  breath  fan  the  curls  on  my  brow ; 
Hark  !  it  speaks  to  me  too,  in  its  own  sweet  way ; 
Oh,  would  I  might  teel  it,  ere  passing  away ! 
I  will  touch  it  just  once — but  where  can  it  be  ? 
Oh,  I  cannot  see!  I  cannot  see! 

The  rays  of  the  sun,  which  they  tell  me  are  bright ; 
I  feel  on  my  cheek,  though  a  stranger  to  sight  ; 
While  music's  low  tones  gently  steal  on  my  ear, 
And  while  pining  to  see  it  I  scarcely  can  hear ; 
But  music  and  sunbeams  are  nothing  to  me, 
For  I  cannot  see !  I  cannot  see ! 


NATURE   OF   HEAVEN.  1 59 

The  look  of  affection,  how  grateful  to  some ! 

And,  caught  from  its  beams,  what  fond  feehngs  must 

come! 
Oh,  would  that  its  form  could  but  dawn  on  my  mind ! 
But  a  glance  from  a  loved  one  is  not  for  the  blind; 
Oh,  why  must  this  world  be  all  darkness  to  me  ? 
Why  may  I  not  see  ?  why  not  see  ? 

Then  is  there  no  joy  for  the  sightless  one  ?  say, 
Must  the  beauties  of  earth  all  unseen  pass  away  ? 
Then  I  will  up  to  a  bright  world  above, 
Where  all  shall  be  happy  and  peaceful  in  love. 
And  there  from  this  darkness  my  eyes  shall  be  free, 
For  then  I  shall  see  !  I  shall  see  ! 


WHERE  THE  DEAF  HEAR. 


James  Montgomery. 


TO  me,  though  neither  voice  nor  sound 
From  earth  or  air  may  come, 
Deaf  to  the  world  that  brawls  around, 
The  world  to  me  is  dumb  : 

Yet  may  the  quick  and  conscious  eye 

Assist  the  slow,  dull  ear  ; 
Light  can  the  signs  of  thought  supply. 

And  with  a  look  I  hear. 

The  song  of  birds,  the  water's  fall, 

Sweet  tones  and  grating  jars. 
Hail,  tempest,  wind,  and  thunder,  all 

Are  silent  as  the  stars — 


l6o  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

The  stars  that  on  their  tranquil  way, 

In  language  without  speech, 
The  glory  of  the  Lord  display, 

And  to  all  nations  preach. 

Now,  though  one  outward  sense  be  sealed. 

The  kind  remaining  four, 
To  teach  me  needful  knowledge,  yield 

Their  earnest  aid  the  more. 

Yet  hath  my  heart  an  inward  ear. 
Through  which  its  powers  rejoice  ; 

Speak,  Lord,  and  let  me  love  to  hear 
Thy  Spirit's  still,  small  voice. 

So  when  the  Archangel  from  the  ground 
Shall  summon  great  and  small. 

The  ear  now  deaf  shall  hear  that  sound, 
And  answer  to  the  call. 


ASCEND,  BELOVED,  TO  THE  JOY. 


HORATIUS   BONAR. 


ASCEND,  beloved,  to  the  joy  ; 
The  festal  day  has  come  ; 
To-night  the  Lamb  doth  feast  his  own, 
To-night  he  with  his  bride  sits  down, 
To-night  puts  on  the  spousal  crown. 
In  the  great  upper  room. 


NATURE    OF    HEAVEN.  l6l 

Ascend,  beloved,  to  the  love  ; 

This  is  the  day  of  days  ; 
To-night  the  bridal  song  is  sung, 
T'o-night  ten  thousand  harps  are  strung, 
In  sympathy  with  heart  and  tongue, 

Unto  the  Lamb's  high  praise. 

The  festal  lamps  are  lighting  now 

In  the  great  marriage-hall  ; 
By  angel-hands  the  board  is  spread  ; 
By  angel-hands  the  sacred  bread 
Is  on  the  golden  table  laid  ; 

The  King  His  own  doth  call. 

The  gems  are  gleaming  from  the  roof, 

Like  stars  in  night's  round  dome ; 
The  festal  wreaths  are  hanging  there. 
The  festal  fragrance  fills  the  air. 
And  flowers  of  heaven,  divinely  fair, 

Unfold  their  happy  bloom. 

Long,  long  deferred,  now  come  at  last 

The  Lamb's  glad  wedding-day  ; 
The  guests  are  gathering  to  the  feast, 
The  seats  in  heavenly  order  placed, 
The  royal  throne  above  the  rest ; 

How  bright  the  new  array ! 

Sorrow  and  sighing  are  no  more  ; 

The  weeping  hours  are  past ; 
To-night  the  waiting  will  be  done, 
Tonight  the  wedding  robe  put  on, 
The  glory  and  the  joy  begun  ; 

The  crown  has  come  at  last. 


1 62  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Without,  within,  is  light,  is  Hght ; 

Around,  above,  is  love,  is  love  ; 
We  enter,  to  go  out  no  more  ; 
We  raise  the  song  unsung  before ; 
We  doff  the  sackcloth  that  we  wore  ; 

For  all  is  joy  above. 

Ascend,  beloved,  to  the  life  ; 

Our  days  of  death  are  o'er  ; 
Mortality  has  done  its  worst ; 
The  fetters  of  the  tomb  are  burst  ; 
The  last  has  now  become  the  first, 

Forever,  evermore. 

Ascend,  beloved,  to  the  feast ; 

Make  haste,  thy  day  is  come  ; 
Thrice  blest  are  they  the  Lamb  doth  call 
To  share  the  heavenly  festival 
In  the  new  Salem's  palace-hall. 

Our  everlasting  home. 


THE  UNKNOWN  COUNTRY. 


By  Dinah  Maria  Mulock  Craik. 


"  \  XT"  HERE  is  the  unknown  country?** 
V  V     I  whispered  sad  and  slow — 

"  The  strange  and  awful  country 
To  which  I  soon  must  go,  must  go, 


To  which  I  soon  must  go?" 


NATURE    OF   HEAVEN.  163 

Out  of  the  unknown  country 

A  voice  sang  soft  and  low. 
*'  O  pleasant  is  that  country, 

And  sweet  it  is  to  go,  to  go, 

And  sweet  it  is  to  go. 

"  Along  the  shining  country 

The  peaceful  rivers  flow  ; 
And  in  that  wondrous  country 

The  tree  of  life  does  grow,  does  grow, 

The  tree  of  life  does  grow. 

Ah  then,  into  that  country 

Of  which  I  nothing  know, 
The  everlasting  country, 

With  willing  heart  I  go,  I  go. 

With  willing  heart  I  go. 


OPEN  IS  THE  STARRY  HALL. 


From  the  Latin,  by  Williams. 


OPEN  is  the  starry  hall ; 
Hear  ye  ?  'tis  the  Bridegroom's  call ! 
Holy  virgins,  one  and  all, 

Ready  stand. 
For  the  heavenly  festival 
Is  at  hand  ! 


164  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Come  at  last  the  nuptial  day» 
Tears  forever  passed  away  ; 
Fled  the  prison-house,  the  clay. 

And  the  thrall  ; 
God  forever  your  sure  stay, 

And  your  all ! 

In  His  presence  is  the  store, 
Purest  joys  for  evermore, 
And  the  fountain  flowing  o'er  ; 

No  more  night, 
Safe  upon  the  happy  shore 

Of  the  light ! 

What  was  royalty's  short  flower, 
Or  the  triumph  of  an  hour  ? 
What  fleet  pleasure's  fading  bower 

And  control  ? 
God's  own  presence  is  the  dower   ' 

Of  the  soul ! 

Wondrous,  glorious  mystery, 
When  the  soul  from  flesh  is  free ! 
Bond  of  sweetness  which  shall  be 

When  the  heart 
Joined  is  to  Deity, 

N'er  to  part ! 


THE   HEAVENLY   STATE. 


Ye  are  come  unto  Mount  Zion,  and  unto  the  city  of  the  living  God,  the 
heavenly  Jerusalem,  and  to  an  innumerable  company  of  angels,  and  to  God  the 
judge  of  all,  and  to  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect,  and  to  Jesus,  the 
mediator  of  the  new  covenant. — Heb.  12  :  22-24. 

An  inheritance  incorruptible  and  undefiled,  and  that  fadeth  not  away,  reserved 
in  heaven  for  you. — i  Peter  1:4. 

And  I,  John,  saw  the  holy  city,  new  Jerusalem,  coming  down  from  God,  out  of 
heaven,  prepared  as  a  bride  adorned  for  her  husband. — Rev.  21  :  2. 

In  thy  presence  is  fulness  of  joy ;  at  thy  right  hand  are  pleasures  forevermore. 
— Ps.  16  :  II. 


THE  HEAVENLY  STATE 


THE   HOLY   CHURCH    INVISIBLE. 


Lyra  Apostolica. 


THE  holy  Jerusalem 
From  highest  heaven  descending, 
Is  crowned  with  a  diadem 
Of  angel  bands  attending: — 
The  Living  City  built  on  high, 
Light  with  celestial  jewelr}' ! 

She  comes  the  Bride,  from  Heaven's  gate, 
In  nuptial  new  adorning, 

To  meet  the  Immaculate 
Like  coming  of  the  morning. 
Her  streets  of  purest  gold  are  made — 
Her  walls,  a  diamond  palisade. 

There  with  pearls  the  gates  are  bright 
Upon  that  Holy  Mountain  ; 

And  thither  come  forth  day  and  night, 
Who  in  the  Living  Fountain 
Have  washed  their  robes  from  earthly  stain, 
And  borne  below  Christ's  lowly  chain. 


1 68  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

By  the  hand  of  the  Unknown, 
The  living  stones  are  moulded 

To  a  glorious  shrine  All  One, 
Full  soon  to  be  unfolded : 
The  building  wherein  God  doth  dwell, 
The  Holy  Church  Invisible. 

Glory  be  to  God,  who  laid 
In  heaven  the  foundation  ; 

And  to  the  Spirit  who  hath  made 
The  walls  of  our  salvation. 
To  Christ  Himself,  its  Corner  Stone  ; 
Be  glory  to  the  Three  in  One. 


THE  SEAT  OF  GLORY. 


Charles  Drummond. 


IF  with  such  passing  beauty,  choice  delights, 
The  Architect  of  this  great  round,  did  frame 
This  palace  visible,  short  lists  of  fame. 
And  silly  mansion  of  but  dying  wights  ; 
How  many  wonders,  what  amazing  lights, 
Must  that  triumphing  Seat  of  Glory  claim, 
That  doth  transcend  all  this  All's  vastly  heights, 
Of  whose  bright  sun,  ours  here  is  but  a  beam  ! 
O  blest  abode  !  O  happy  dwelling-place  ! 
Where  visibly  th'  Invisible  doth  reign ; 
Blest  people,  who  do  see  true  Beauty's  face. 
With  whose  far  shadows,  scarce  He  earth  doth  deign 
All  Joy  is  but  annoy,  all  concord  strife. 
Matched  with  your  endless  bliss  and  happy  life. 


THE   HEAVENLY   STATE.  169 


IN    BRIDAL   BEAUTY  DREST. 


J.  S.    B.    MONSELC 


And  I  John  saw  the  Holy  City,  new  Jerusalem,  coming  down  from  God  out  of 
heaven,  prepared  as  a  bride  adorned  for  her  husband. — Rev.  xxi.  2. 

JERUSALEM,  the  holy ! 
Jerusalem  the  blest ! 
From  highest  heav'n  descending 

In  bridal  beauty  drest : 
Bride  of  the  Lamb  !   thy  glory, 

The  light  of  God  alone, 
Shines  through  thee  clear  as  crystal, 
And  like  a  jasper  stone. 

Thy  walls  are  great  and  glorious  ; 

Twelve  pearls  are  thy  twelve  gates, 
By  every  gate  an  angel 

For  holy  service  waits : 
And  names  thereon  are  written. 

Angelic  hands  inscribe 
The  tribes  of  Israel's  children, 

On  every  pearl  a  tribe. 

And  Twelve  are  thy  foundations, 

All  precious  stones  most  fair, 
The  names  of  the  Apostles 

Are  ever  in  them  there : 


I/O  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Of  pure  gold  is  the  city, 
And  golden  is  the  street, 

Like  to  clear  glass  transparent 
Beneath  the  saved  ones'  feet. 

And  therein  is  no  temple. 

No  place  apart  for  prayer, 
For  the  Lord  Almighty,  and 

The  Lamb  thy  temple  are  : 
No  need  of  sun  to  lighten, 

No  need  of  moon  to  shine, 
Thy  sunshine  is  God's  glory, 

The  Lamb  thy  Light  Divine. 

The  nations  of  the  saved 

Do  walk  there  in  thy  light, 
Thy  gates  by  day  unclosed. 

Within  thy  walls  no  night : 
The  kings  of  earth  their  glory, 

The  queens  their  state  do  bring, 
And  lay  them  down  in  homage 

Before  the  glorious  King. 

There  shall  in  no  wise  enter 

The  things  that  do  defile, 
That  work  abomination, 

And  spoil  God's  truth  with  guile. 
But  those  whose  names  are  written 

In  the  Lamb's  Book  of  Life, 
They  only  shall  be  in  thee, 

Thou  spotless  Bride  and  Wife. 


THE   HEAVENLY   STATE.  ^  I/l 

Jerusalem  the  holy ! 

My  Spirit  longs  to  be 
Within  thy  walls  of  jasper, 

Thy  gates  of  pearl  to  see  ; 
And  through  the  sunless  City 

To  walk  thy  streets  of  gold,    » 
And  in  thy  moonless  beauty 

God's  glory  to  behold. 

Give  me,  O  Lord,  the  patience 

To  labor  and  endure, 
And,  that  I  may  behold  Thee, 

Give  me  a  heart  that's  pure  : 
Write  Thine  own  Name  upon  it. 

That,  after  earth's  long  strife, 
My  name  may  be  found  written 

In  the  Lamb's  Book  of  Life. 


FOREVER  WITH  THE  LORD. 


James  Montgomery. 


FOR  ever  with  the  Lord," 
Amen.     So  let  it  be  ; 
Life  from  the  dead  is  in  that  word  ; 

'T  is  immortality. 
Here  in  the  body  pent, 

Absent  from  Him  I  roam  ; 
Yet  nightly  pitch  my  moving  tent 
A  day's  march  nearer  home. 


172  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

My  father's  house  on  high, 

Home  of  my  soul,  how  near, 
At  times,  to  faith's  aspiring  eye, 

The  golden  gates  appear! 
Ah,  how  my  spirit  faints 

To  reach  the  land  I  love  ; 
The  bright  inheritance  of  saints, 

Jerusalem  above. 

Yet  doubts  still  intervene, 

And  all  my  comfort  flies  ; 
Like  Noah's  dove  I  flit  between 

Rough  seas  and  stormy  skies. 
Anon  the  clouds  depart. 

The  winds  and  waters  cease  ; 
While  sweetly,  o'er  my  gladdened  heart, 

Expands  the  bow  of  peace. 

"  Forever  with  the  Lord  !  " 

Father,  if  't  is  Thy  will. 
The  promise  of  Thy  gracious  word. 

E'en  here,  to  me  fulfill. 
Be  Thou  at  my  right  hand, 

So  shall  I  never  fail : 
Uphold  me,  and  I  needs  must  stand ; 

Fight,  and  I  shall  prevail. 

So,  when  my  latest  breath 
Shall  rend  the  vail  in  twain. 

By  death  I  shall  escape  from  death. 
And  life  eternal  gain. 


THE    HEAVENLY    STATE.  1 73 

Knowing  "  as  I  am  known," 

How  shall  I  love  that  word, 
And  oft  repeat  before  the  throne, 

"  Forever  with  the  Lord  !  " 


PARADISE  MUST  FAIRER  BE. 


From  the  German  of  Friedrich  Ruckert. 


OH,  Paradise  must  fairer  be 
Than  any  spot  below ! 
My  spirit  pines  for  liberty  ; 
Now  let  me  thither  go  ! 

In  Paradise,  forever  clear. 
The  stream  of  love  is  flowing, 

For  every  tear  that  I've  shed  here 
A  pearl  therein  is  glowing. 

In  Paradise  alone  is  rest  ; 

Joy  breathing,  woe-dispelling ; 
A  heavenly  wind  fans  every  breast 

Within  that  happy  dwelling. 

For  every  wounding  thorn  below, 

A  rose  shall  blossom  there ; 
And  sweeter  flowers  than  earth  can  show 

Shall  twine  around  my  hair. 

And  every  joy,  that,  budding  died. 

Shall  open  there  in  bloom  ; 
And  Spring,  in  all  her  flowery  pride, 

Shall  waken  from  the  tomb. 


174  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

And  all  the  joys  shall  meet  me  there 
For  which  my  heart  was  pining, 

Like  golden  fruit  in  gardens  fair, 
And  flowers  forever  shining. 

My  youth,  that  fled  so  soon  away, 
And  left  me  sad,  decaying. 

Shall  there,  be  with  me  every  day 
With  bright  wings  round  me  playing. 

All  hopes,  all  wishes,  all  the  love 
I  sighed  for,  pined  for  ever, 

Shall  bloom  around  me  there  above, 
And  last  with  me  forever  ! 


KNOW  YE  THE  LAND? 


From  the  German,  by  Dr.  Mills. 


KNOW   ye    the    land  ? — On    earth    'twere   vainly 
sought 
To  which  the  heart  in  sorrows  turns  its  thought  ; 
Where  no  complaint  is  heard — tears  never  flow — 
The  good  are  blest — the  weak  with  vigor  glow, — 
Know  ye  it  well  ? 

For  this,  for  this 
All  earthly  wish  or  care,  my  friends,  dismiss ! 


THE    HEAVENLY  STATE.  1/5 

Know  ye  the  way — the  rugged  path  of  thorns? 
His  lagging  progress  there,  the  traveller  mourns ; 
He  faints,  he  sinks, — from  dust  he  cries  to  God — 
*'  Relieve  me,  Father,  from  the  weary  road !  " 
Know  ye  it  well  ? 

It  guides,  it  guides. 
To  that  dear  land,  where  all  we  hope  abides. 

Know  ye  that  Friend  ? — In  Him  a  man  you  see  ; 
Yet  more  than  man,  more  than  all  men  is  He ; 
Himself  before  us  trod  the  path  of  thorns. 
To  pilgrims  now  His  heart  with  pity  turns. 
Know  ye  Him  well? 

His  hand,  His  hand 
Will  safely  bring  us  to  that  Father-Land. 


THAT  SHALL  BE  FOR  THEE  AND  ME. 


HORATIUS   BONAR. 


WHAT  to  that  for  which  we're  waiting, 
Is  this  glittering,  earthly  toy? 
Heavenly  glory,  holy  splendor. 

Sum  of  grandeur,  sum  of  joy! 
Not  the  gems  that  Time  can  tarnish, 

Not  the  hues  that  dim  and  die  ; 
Not  the  glow  that  cheats  the  lover, 
Shaded  with  mortality. 

Heir  of  glory. 
That  shall  be  for  thee  and  me ! 
8* 


176  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Not  the  light  that  leaves  us  darker, 

Not  the  gleams  that  come  and  go ; 
Not  the  mirth  whose  end  is  madness. 

Not  the  joy  whose  fruit  is  woe  ; 
Not  the  notes  that  die  at  sunset, 

Not  the  fashion  of  a  day. 
But  the  everlasting  beauty. 

And  the  endless  melody : 
Heir  of  glory, 

That  shall  be  for  thee  and  me  ! 

City  of  the  pearl-bright  portal, 

City  of  the  jasper  wall, 
City  of  the  golden  pavement, 

Seat  of  endless  festival ; 
City  of  Jehovah,  Salem ! 

City  of  Eternity ! 
To  thy  bridal  halls  of  gladness, 

From  this  prison  would  I  flee  ! 
Heir  of  glory, 

That  shall  be  for  thee  and  me ! 

Ah  !  with  such  strange  spells  around  me, 

Fairest  of  what  earth  calls  fair. 
How  I  need  thy  fairer  image 

To  undo  the  syren  snare  ! 
Lest  the  subtle  serpent-tempter 

Lure  me  with  his  radiant  lie ; 
As  if  sin  were  sin  no  longer, 

Life  were  no  more  vanity ! 
Heir  of  glory, 

What  is  that  to  thee  and  me? 


THE   HEAVENLY    STATE.  \'J^ 

Yes,  I  need  thee,  heavenly  city, 

My  low  spirit  to  upbear  ; 
Yes,  I  need  thee ;  earth's  enchantments 

So  beguile  me  with  their  glare. 
Let  me  see  thee,  then  these  fetters 

Break  asunder  :  I  am  free  ! 
Then  this  pomp  no  longer  chains  me, 

Faith  has  won  the  victory. 
Heir  of  glory, 

That  shall  be  for  thee  and  me  ! 

Soon,  where  earthly  beauty  blinds  not, 

Nor  excess  of  brilliance  palls, 
Salem,  City  of  the  Holy, 

We  shall  be  within  thy  walls ! 
There  beside  yon  crystal  river, 

There,  beneath  Life's  wondrous  tree, 
There  with  naught  to  cloud  or  sever, 

Ever  with  the  Lamb  to  be ! 
Heir  of  glory, 

That  shall  be  for  thee  and  me ! 


HIGH  IN  YONDER  REALMS  OF  LIGHT. 


Dr.  Thomas  Raffles. 


HIGH  in  yonder  realms  of  light. 
Far  above  these  lower  skies. 
Fair,  and  exquisitely  bright, 

Heaven's  unfading  mansions  rise. 


178  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

Built  of  pure  and  massy  gold, 
Strong  and  durable  are  they, 

Decked  with  gems  of  worth  untold, 
Subjected  to  no  decay. 

Glad  within  these  blest  abodes 

Dwell  the  raptured  saints  above, 
Where  no  anxious  care  corrodes, 

Happy  in  Immanuel's  love  ; 
Once,  indeed,  like  us  below. 

Pilgrims  in  this  vale  of  tears, 
Torturing  pain,  and  heavy  wo, 

Gloomy  doubts,  distressing  fears. 

These,  alas,  full  well  they  knew, 

Sad  companions  of  their  way  ; 
Oft  on  them  the  tempest  blew 

Through  the  long  and  cheerless  day. 
Oft  their  vileness  they  deplored  ; 

Wills  perverse,  and  hearts  untrue, 
Grieved  they  could  not  love  their  Lord, 

Love  Him  as  they  wished  to  do. 

Oft  the  big,  unbidden  tear, 

Stealing  down  the  furrowed  cheek, 
Told,  with  eloquence  sincere, 

Tales  of  wo  they  could  not  speak  ; 
But  these  days  of  weeping  o'er, 

Past  this  scene  of  toil  and  pain, 
They  shall  know  distress  no  more, 

Never,  never  weep  again. 


THE    HEAVENLY   STATE.  I79 

*Mid  the  chorus  of  the  skies, 

'Mid  the  angelic  lyres  above, 
Hark,  their  songs  melodious  rise, 

Songs  of  praise  to  Jesus'  love. 
Happy  spirits !  ye  are  fled 

Where  no  grief  can  entrance  find, 
Lulled  to  rest  the  aching  head. 

Soothed  the  sorrows  of  the  mind. 

All  is  tranquil  and  serene, 

Calm  and  undisturbed  repose  ; 
There  no  cloud  can  intervene. 

There  no  angry  tempest  blows. 
Every  tear  is  wiped  away ; 

Sighs  no  more  shall  heave  the  breast, 
Night  is  lost  in  endless  day, 

Sorrow  in  eternal  rest. 


WINTER  BRAMING— SUMMER  FLAMING. 


[The  following  is  a  metrical  translation  of  a  Latin  hymn  attributed  to  Augustine.] 


WINTER  braming — Summer  flaming, 
There  relax  their  blustering, 
And  sweet  roses  ever  blooming 
Make  an  everlasting  Spring. 
Lily  blanching,  crocus  blushing, 
And  the  balsam  perfuming. 


l8o  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

There  nor  waxing  moon,  nor  waning 
Sun,  nor  stars  in  courses  bright, 

For  the  Lamb  to  that  glad  city- 
Shines  an  everlasting  Hght : 

There  the  daylight  beams  for  ever, 
All  unknown  are  time  and  night. 

For  the  saints  in  beauty  beaming, 

Shine  in  light  and  glory  pure, 
Crowned  in  triumph's  flushing  honors, 

Joy  in  unison  secure, 
And  in  safety  tell  their  battles. 

And  their  foes*  discomfiture. 

Here  they  live  in  endless  being, 

Passingness  has  passed  away. 
Here  they  bloom,  they  thrive,  they  flourish, 

For  decayed  is  all  decay  ; 
Lasting  energy  hath  swallowed 

Darkling  death's  malignant  sway. 


JERUSALEM  THE  GOLDEN. 


Gerald  Massev. 


JERUSALEM  the  Golden, 
I  languish  for  one  gleam 
Of  all  thy  glory  folden 

In  distance  and  in  dream  I 
My  thoughts,  like  palms  in  exile, 

Climb  up  to  look  and  pray 
For  a  glimpse  of  that  dear  Country 
That  lies  so  far  away. 


THE    HEAVENLY   STATE.  l8l 

Jerusalem  the  golden, 

Methinks  each  flower  that  blows, 
And  every  bird  a-singing, 

Of  thee  some  secret  knows  ! 
I  know  not  what  the  Flowers 

Can  feel,  or  Singers  see, 
But  all  these  summer  raptures 

Are  prophecies  of  thee. 

Jerusalem  the  golden 

When  Sunset's  in  the  west, 
It  seems  thy  gate  of  glory, 

Thou  City  of  the  Blest ! 
And  Midnight's  starry  torches. 

Through  intermediate  gloom, 
Are  waving  with  their  welcome 

To  thy  Eternal  Home. 

Jerusalem  the  Golden  ! 

Where  loftily  they  sing, 
O'er  pain  and  sorrows  olden 

For  ever  triumphing ! 
Lowly  may  be  thy  portal, 

And  dark  may  be  the  door, 
The  Mansion  is  immortal — 

God's  palace  for  His  poor. 

Jerusalem  the  Golden  ; 

There  all  our  Birds  that  flew, — 
Our  Flowers  but  half-unfolden, 

Our  Pearls  that  turn'd  to  dew, — 


r82  HEAVEN    IN    SONG. 

And  all  the  glad  life-music 

Now  heard  no  longer  here, 
Shall  come  again  to  greet  us 

As  we  are  drawing  near. 

Jerusalem  the  Golden  ; 

I  toil  on  day  by  day  ; 
Heart-sore  each  night,  with  longing 

I  stretch  my  hands  and  pray 
That  midst  thy  leaves  of  healing 

My  soul  may  find  her  nest, 
Where  the  Wicked  cease  from  troubling,- 

The  Weary  are  at  rest. 


JERUSALEM,  THY  GLORIOUS  WALLS. 


John  Matthew  Meyfart.     A  translation  in  the  original  metre. 


John  Matthew  Meyfart,  the  author  of  this  hymn,  was  a  Lutheran  theologian  of 
the  first  pari  of  the  seventeenth  century.  He  was  born  at  Wallwinkel  in  Thuringia, 
November  9,  1590.  Meyfart  pursued  his  studies  at  Jena  and  Wittenberg.  He  wrote 
many  able  works,  especially  on  doctrinal  and  polemical  theology,  and  held  various 
offices  of  the  highest  importance.  The  closing  years  of  his  life  were  spent  as  "  Pro- 
fessor of  the  Augsburg  Confession,"  and  Pastor  and  Senior  of  the  Ministerium  at 
Erfurt,  where  he  died,  January  36,  1643. 

JERUSALEM,  high  tower,  thy  glorious  walls. 
Would  God  I  were  in  thee! 
My  heart  hath  gone  where  thy  fair  beauty  calls, 
And  dwells  no  more  in  me; 


THE   HEAVENLY   STATE.  1 83 

Far  over  the  hill  and  mountain, 

Far  over  the  plain  and  dell, 
On  wings  of  rapture  soaring. 

It  bids  this  world  farewell ! 

O  day  of  joy,  and  hour  of  pure  delight — 

How  long  wilt  thou  delay  ? 
When  peacefully  my  soul  may  take  its  flight, 
And  leave  this  load  of  clay, 
In  perfect  trust  reposing 

On  God's  Almighty  hand, 
Who  faithfully  shall  bring  it 
Home  to  its  Fatherland. 

Lo!  from  the  tomb,  up  to  the  clouds  of  heaven, 

It  instantly  shall  soar, 
When,  hushed  in  death,  its  last  farewell  is  given 
To  earth,  now  seen  no  more  ; 
Elijah's  fiery  chariot 

In  triumph  it  shall  ride, 
Upborne  by  angel  armies, 
That  fly  on  every  side. 

The  gates  of  pearl  now  open  wide  to  me. 

Thou  City  of  the  blest ; 
To  me  who  oft  have  longed  and  prayed  for  thee, 
And  thy  refreshing  rest. 
Ere  sighs,  and  tears,  and  sorrow. 

Ere  pain,  and  grief,  and  woe, 
Were  changed  to  this  rejoicing, 
That  all  thy  children  know. 


1 84  HEAVEN    IN    SONG. 

What  shining  host  is  this  that  comes  to  me, 

Drawn  up  in  bright  array? 
His  chosen  ones,  with  palms  of  victory, 
His  joy  and  crown  are  they. 
These  Jesus  sends  to  meet  me, 

To  calm  my  doubts  and  fears ; 
From  far  they  smile  and  greet  me, 
In  this  dark  vale  of  tears. 

And  now  behold  these  Prophets,  Priests,  and  Kings, 

And  Martyrs  noble  band. 
Who  bore  the  Cross,  and  dared  the  torturings 
Of  tyrants  to  withstand  ; — 
See  then  in  glory  floating, 
.  In  freedom  every  where. 
And  swift  as  glittering  sunbeams, 
Move  radiant  through  the  air. 

In  Paradise,  among  the  saints  above. 

New  pleasures  I  shall  know. 
With  joy  divine  shall  my  triumphant  love 
In  songs  of  praise  o'erflow  ; 
Shall  join  the  full  hosannas 

That  echo  all  around, 
And  mighty  hallelujahs 
That  ever  there  resound. 

Clear  trumpet  tones,  and  harps  with  golden  strings, 

Those  countless  choirs  employ, 
So  loud  and  sweet,  heaven's  living  temple  rings. 

And  trembles  with  the  joy  : — 


THE    HEAVENLY    STATE.  l8c 


Ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand, 

A  sea  that  has  no  shore, 
Whose  praise  in  thundering  billows 

Rolls  on  forever  more. 


O  MOTHER  DEAR,  JERUSALEM  ! 


We  transfer  the  following  judicious  criticism  upon  this  old  masterpiece  of 
hymnology,  from  the  work  of  William  C.  Prime,  entitled,  O  Mother  dear,  Jeru- 
salem !  "  The  authorship  of  the  hymn  in  English  has  been  commonly  attributed  to 
David  Dickson,  a  Scotch  clergyman  of  the  Seventeenth  Century.  A  careful  exam- 
ination of  the  authorities,  as  well  as  those  cited  by  Dr.  Bonar,  leads  to  the  con- 
viction that  we  are  indebted  to  Dickson  for  the  present  form  of  the  hymn,  and 
probably  for  a  considerable  portion  of  the  verses.  But  portions  of  the  hymn  had 
earlier  existence  in. our  language,  and  it  is  manifest  that  this  song  is  of  earlier  origin 
than  the  time  of  Dickson,  who  was  born  about  a.  d.  15 S3,  and  died  in  a.  d.  1663.  It 
seems  probable,  on  a  critical  examination  of  the  hymn,  that  it  has  received  contri- 
butions from  various  hands  ;  additions,  which  are  mostly  translations  from  the 
Fathers  or  from  mediaeval  Latin  hymns,  having  been  made  by  one  and  another  au- 
thor. So  entirely  diverse  is  the  style  of  different  stanzas  that  this  theory  alone  can 
explain  it,  and  it  is  possible  that  David  Dickson  only  put  into  shape  and  polished 
a  little  the  work  of  his  devout  predecessors.  This,  however,  is  certain,  that  to  the 
noble  Church  of  Scotland  we  awe  this  hymn  in  its  present  state." 


O  MOTHER  dear,  Jerusalem  ! 
When  shall  I  come  to  thee  ? 
When  shall  my  sorrows  have  an  end — 

Thy  joys  when  shall  I  see  ? 
O  happy  harbor  of  God's  saints  ! 

O  sweet  and  pleasant  soil  ! 
In  thee  no  sorrows  can  be  found, 
No  grief,  no  care,  no  toil. 


1 86  HEAVEN    IN    SUNG. 

In  thee  no  sickness  is  at  all. 


No  hurt  nor  any  sore ; 
There  is  no  death  nor  ugly  sight, 

But  life  for  evermore. 
No  dimmish  clouds  o'ershadow  thee, 

No  cloud  nor  darksome  night ; 
But  every  soul  shines  as  the  sun. 

For  God  himself  gives  light. 

There  lust  or  lucre  cannot  dwell, 

There  envy  bears  no  sway ; 
There  is  no  hunger,  thirst,  or  heat, 

But  pleasure  every  way. 
Jerusalem  !  Jerusalem  ! 

Would  God  I  were  in  thee ! 
Oh  that  my  sorrows  had  an  end, 

Thy  joys  that  I  might  see  ! 

No  pains,  no  pangs,  no  grieving  grief, 

No  woful  wight  is  there  ; 
No  sigh,  no  sob,  no  cry  is  heard — 

No  well-away,  no  fear. 
Jerusalem  the  city  is 

Of  God  our  King  alone  ; 
The  Lamb  of  God  the  light  thereof 

Sits  there  upon  His  throne. 

Ah  God  !  that  I  Jerusalem 
With  speed  may  go  behold  ! 

For  why?  the  pleasures  there  abound 
With  tongue  cannot  be  told. 


THE    HEAVENLY   STATE.  187 

Thy  turrets  and  thy  pinnacles, 

With  carbuncles  do  shine, 
With  jasper,  pearl,  and  chrysolite, 

Surpassing  pure  and  fine. 

Thy  houses  are  of  ivory, 

Thy  windows  crystal  clear, 
Thy  streets  are  laid  with  beaten  gold — 

There  angels  do  appear. 
Thy  walls  are  made  of  precious  stones, 

Thy  bulwarks  diamond  square, 
Thy  gates  are  made  of  Orient  pearl — 

O  God,  if  I  were  there  ! 

Within  thy  gates  no  thing  can  come 

That  is  not  passing  clean  ; 
No  spider's  web,  no  dirt,  no  dust, 

No  filth  may  there  be  seen. 
Jehovah,  Lord,  now  come  away. 

And  end  my  grief  and  plaints  ; 
Take  me  to  Thy  Jerusalem, 

And  place  me  with  Thy  saints. 

Who  there  are  crowned  with  glory  great, 

And  see  God  face  to  face  ; 
They  triumph  still  and  aye  rejoice — 

Most  happy  is  their  case. 
But  we  that  are  in  banishment. 

Continually  do  moan  ; 
We  sigh,  we  mourn,  we  sob,  we  weep — 

Perpetually  we  groan. 


1 88  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Our  sweetness  mixed  is  with  gall, 

Our  pleasure  is  but  pain, 
Our  joys  not  worth  the  looking  on — 

Our  sorrows  aye  remain. 
But  there  they  live  in  such  delight, 

Such  pleasure  and  such  play, 
That  unto  them  a  thousand  years 

Seem  but  as  yesterday. 

O  my  sweet  home,  Jerusalem ! 

Thy  joys  when  shall  I  see  ? 
Thy  King  sitting  upon  His  throne, 

And  thy  felicity ! 
T^y  vineyards  and  thy  orchards  are 

So  wonderful  and  fair, 
And  furnished  with  trees  and  fruit, 

Most  beautiful  and  rare. 

Thy  gardens  and  thy  goodly  walks, 

Continually  are  green ; 
There  grow  such  sweet  and  pleasant  flowers, 

As  no  where  else  are  seen. 
There  cinnamon  and  sugar  grow, 

There  nard  and  balm  abound  ; 
No  tongue  can  tell,  no  heart  can  think, 

The  pleasures  there  are  found. 

There  nectar  and  ambrosie  spring — 

There  musk  and  civet  sweet  ; 
There  many  a  fair  and  dainty  drug 

Are  trod  down  under  feet. 


THE   HEAVENLY   STATE.  1 89 

Quite  through  the  streets,  with  pleasant  sound, 

The  flood  of  Hfe  doth  flow  ; 
Upon  the  banks,  on  every  side, 

The  trees  of  life  do  grow. 

These  trees  each  month  yield  ripened  fruit  — 

For  evermore  they  spring ; 
And  all  the  nations  of  the  world 

To  thee  their  honors  bring. 
Jerusalem,  God's  dwelling-place, 

Full  sore  I  long  to  see ; 
Oh  that  my  sorrows  had  an  end, 

That  I  might  dwell  in  thee! 

There  David  stands,  with  harp  in  hand, 

As  master  of  the  queir  ; 
A  thousand  times  that  man  were  blessed 

That  might  his  music  hear. 
There  Mary  sings  Magnificat, 

With  tunes  surpassing  sweet ; 
And  all  the  virgins  bear  their  part, 

Singing  about  her  feet. 

Te  Deum  doth  St.  Ambrose  sing, 

St.  Austin  doth  the  like ; 
Old  Simeon  and  Zacharie 

Have  not  their  songs  to  seek. 
There  Magdalene  hath  left  her  moan, 

And  cheerfully  doth  sing, 
With  all  blest  saints  whose  harmony 

Through  every  street  doth  ring. 


igo  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Jerusalem  !  Jerusalem  ! 

Thy  joys  fain  would  I  see  ; 
Come  quickly,  Lord,  and  end  my  grief, 

And  take  me  home  to  Thee! 
Oh  print  Thy  name  in  my  forehead, 

And  take  me  hence  away, 
That  I  may  dwell  with  Thee  in  bliss, 

And  sing  Thy  praises  aye ! ' 

Jerusalem,  thrice  happy  seat ! 

Jehovah's  throne  on  high! 
O  sacred  city,  queen,  and  wife 

Of  Christ  eternally  ! 

0  comely  queen,  with  glory  clad, 
With  honor  and  degree, 

All  fair  thou  art,  exceeding  bright — 
No  spot  there  is  in  thee. 

1  long  to  see  Jerusalem, 

The  comfort  of  us  all ; 
For  thou  art  fair  and  beautiful — 

No  ill  can  thee  befall. 
In  thee,  Jerusalem,  I  say, 

No  darkness  dare  appear; 
No  night,  no  shade,  no  winter  foul — 

No  time  doth  alter  there. 

No  candle  needs,  no  moon  to  shine, 
No  glittering  stars  to  light ; 

For  Christ,  the  King  of  Righteousness, 
There  ever  shineth  bright. 


THE   HEAVENLY   STATE.  I9I 

The  Lamb  unspotted,  white  and  pure, 

To  thee  doth  stand  in  Heu 
Of  Hght — so  great  the  glory  is 

Thine  heavenly  King  to  view. 

He  is  the  King  of  kings,  beset 

In  midst  His  servants'  sight ; 
And  they.  His  happy  household  all 

Do  serve  Him  day  and  night. 
There,  there  the  queir  of  angels  sing ; 

There  the  supernal  sort 
Of  citizens,  which  hence  are  rid 

From  dangers  deep,  do  sport. 

There  be  the  prudent  prophets  all, 

The  apostles  six  and  six, 
The  glorious  martyrs  in  a  row, 

And  confessors  betwixt. 
There  doth  the  crew  of  righteous  men 

And  matrons  all  consist ; 
Young  men  and  mg.ids  that  here  on  earth 

Their  pleasures  did  resist. 

The  sheep  and  lambs  that  hardly  'scaped 

The  snares  of  death  and  hell. 
Triumph  in  joy  eternally. 

Whereof  no  tongue  can  tell ; 
And  though  the  glory  of  each  one 

Doth  differ  in  degree. 
Yet  is  the  joy  of  all  alike 

And  common,  as  we  see. 


192  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

There  love  and  charity  do  reign, 

And  Christ  is  all  in  all, 
Whom  they  most  perfectly  behold 

In  joy  celestial. 
They  love,  they  praise — they  praise,  they  love  ; 

They  "  holy,  holy,"  cry  ; 
They  neither  toil,  nor  faint,  nor  end, 

But  laud  continually. 

Oh  happy  thousand  times  were  I, 

If,  after  wretched  days, 
I  might  with  listening  ears  conceive 

Those  heavenly  songs  of  praise, 
Which  to  the  eternal  King  are  sung 

By  happy  wights  above — 
By  saved  souls  and  angels  sweet, 

Who  love  the  God  of  Love! 

Oh  passing  happy  were  my  state, 

Might  I  be  worthy  found 
To  wait  upon  my  God  and  King, 

His  praises  there  to  sound  ; 
And  to  enjoy  my  Christ  above. 

His  favor  and  His  grace, 
According  to  His  promise  made, 

Which  here  I  interlace. 

*'  O  Father  dear,"  quoth  He,  *' let  them 

Which  Thou  hast  put  of  old 
To  me,  be  there  where,  lo,  I  am, 

Thy  glory  to  behold  ; 


THE   HEAVENLY   STATE.  I93 

Which  I  with  Thee  before  the  world 

Was  made,  in  perfect  wise, 
Have  had  ;  from  whence  the  fountain  great 

Of  glory  doth  arise." 

Again  :  "  If  any  man  will  serve 

Then  let  him  follow  me  ; 
For  where  I  am,  be  thou,  right  sure, 

There  shall  my  servant  be." 
And  still :  ''  If  any  man  love  me, 

Him  loves  my  Father  dear; 
Whom  I  do  love,  to  him  myself 

In  glory  will  appear." 

Lord,  take  away  my  misery, 

That  there  I  may  behold 
With  Thee  in  Thy  Jerusalem, 

What  here  cannot  be  told. 
And  so  in  Zion  see  my  King, 

My  Love,  my  Lord,  my  All ; 
Whom  now  as  in  a  glass  I  see. 

There  face  to  face  I  shall. 

Oh  !  blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart, 

Their  Sovereign  they  shall  see  ; 
And  the  most  holy  heavenly  host. 

Who  of  His  household  be  ! 
O  Lord,  with  speed  dissolve  my  bands. 

These  gins  and  fetters  strong  ; 
For  I  have  dwelt  within  the  tents 

Of  Kedar  overlong ! 
13 


194  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Yet  search  me,  Lord,  and  find  me  out 

Fetch  me  Thy  fold  unto, 
That  all  Thy  angels  may  rejoice, 

While  all  Thy  will  I  do. 
O  mother  dear,  Jerusalem  ! 

When  shall  I  come  to  thee  ? 
When  shall  my  sorrows  have  an  end — 

Thy  joys  when  shall  I  see  ? 

Yet  once  again  I  pray  Thee,  Lord, 

To  quit  me  from  all  strife, 
That  to  Thine  hill  I  may  attain 

And  dwell  there  all  my  life. 
With  cherubims  and  seraphims 

And  holy  souls  of  men, 
To  sing  Thy  praise,  O  God  of  Hosts! 

For  ever,  and  Amen  ! 


THE  GATES  OF  GOLD. 


Gerard  Moultrie. 


THIRSTS  my  weary  spirit 
For  the  springs  of  life, 
Yearns  my  soul  for  freedom 

From  earth's  toil  and  strife  ; 
Soul  and  spirit,  longing 
To  cast  off  their  load, 
Wait  the  revelation 
Of  the  sons  of  GOD. 


THE   HEAVENLY    STATE.  I95 

Who  can  tell  the  glory- 
Vast  and  manifold, 

Which  shall  beam  resplendent 
Round  the  gates  of  gold  ? 

Who  can  tell  the  radiance 
Of  the  realms  of  light, 

Fathomless,  eternal. 
Endless,  infinite  ? 

Smile  the  sunlit  meadows, 

Bright  with  joys  untold 
Round  about  the  portals 

Of  the  gates  of  Gold  : 
There  no  frosts  may  wither, 

Winter  storms  are  still 
Where  GOD  reigns  for  ever 

On  His  holy  hill. 

Everlasting  springtime 

Warms  the  verdant  sod, 
Bright  with  myriad  wild-flowers 

Round  the  feet  of  GOD  ; 
Summer  sun  ne'er  scorches, 

Autumn  leaves  ne'er  fall 
Where  the  saints  of  jESUS 

Hold  their  festival. 

Down  the  cedarn  alleys 

Past  the  Holy  spring, 
Where  the  bees'  low  murmur 

Faints  upon  the  wing, 


196  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Pass  the  Saints  of  jESUS 
Whom  His  voice  hath  told 

To  come  bravely  to  Him 
Through  the  gates  of  Gold. 

There  the  Virgin  Mother 

At  the  gate  shall  stand, 
With  her  virgin  lily 

Blooming  in  her  hand  : 
Lilies  grow  all  round  her — 

Lilies  fair  to  see, 
But  of  all  the  lilies 

Fairest  far  is  she. 


Radiant,  inviting. 

Lovely,  lily-souled, 
She  shall  go  before  them 

Through  the  gates  of  Gold ; 
And  the  choirs  of  Virgins 

Round  her  feet  are  met, 
Bright  are  those  twelve  star-beams 

Round  her  coronet. 

All  the  air  ambrosial 

Breathes  around  her  brow, 
Fairer  than  the  moonbeam. 

Purer  than  the  snow  ; 
Chaster  than  the  starlight 

On  the  wave  so  cold. 
Shines  the  Star  of  Ocean 

Through  the  gates  of  Gold. 


THE   HEAVENLY   STATE.  I97 

Sunlight  of  the  Presence 

In  their  joy  they  find, 
Time,  and  day,  and  darkness 

Are  all  left  behind : 
Wherefore  should  they  reckon 

Of  the  waning  hours, 
Where  no  hours  are  waning 

In  those  blissful  bowers  ? 

But  though  sunshine  warm  them, 

Warmer  is  the  love 
Kindled  in  the  radiance 

Of  the  courts  above  ; 
Where  no  wolf  in  silence 

Climbs  into  the  fold 
Fenced  around  in  safety 

By  the  gates  of  Gold. 

There  no  slimy  serpent 

Slides  beneath  the  grass, 
Where  their  feet  securely 

Through  those  meadows  pass : 
Satan  finds  no  entrance, 

Eden  knows  no  guile. 
Where  the  Saints  repose  them, 

In  God's  loving  smile. 

There  at  last  before  them, 

With  all  healing  rife. 
Bearing  twelve-fold  fruitage 

Blooms  the  Tree  of  Life  ; 


1 98  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

No  more  curse  hangs  o'er  them, 
Lest  they  touch  that  tree, 

They  may  eat,  and  eating, 
Live  eternally. 

But  no  Tree  of  Knowledge 

Blooms  before  the  Throne, 
For  the  Saints  of  jESUS 

Know  as  they  are  known  ; 
Comes  no  guilt  to  try  them, 

Those  pure  courts  within  : 
Comes  there  no  temptation 

Where  may  come  no  sin. 

Through  the  flowery  garden 

Flows,  their  footsteps  near, 
Life's  bright  stream  of  water 

As  the  crystal  clear  ; 
From  no  earthly  fountain 

Are  its  clear  waves  rolled, 
For  they  flow  untainted 

Through  the  gates  of  Gold. 

On  the  breeze  of  morning. 

Like  a  distant  chant 
Heard  in  dreams  half-wakeful 

Sweet-toned,  resonant, 
Floats  the  sound  of  harpers 

Harping  dreamily. 
As  'mid  flowers  of  Eden 

And  sweet  thoughts  they  lie. 


THE    HEAVENLY    STATE.  I90 

For  no  cares,  no  sorrows 

Pass  the  Vale  of  Death, 
Sighs  ne'er  mount  to  Heaven 

On  the  parting  breath  ; 
Aching  hearts  their  burden 

Now  no  longer  hold  ; 
TJiat  is  dropt  for  ever 

At  the  gates  of  Gold. 

O  my  Lord,  my  Master, 

When  earth's  sunlight  fades, 
And  my  footsteps  falter 

In  the  Vale  of  Shades, 
Let  mine  ears  in  rapture 

That  sweet  music  hear 
Floating  on  the  night-wind 

Nearer  and  more  near. 

O  my  Lord,  my  Captain, 

Bid  the  martyr  throng 
Sound  across  the  darkness- 

With  the  voice  of  song : 
Bid  the  Angel  squadrons 

Sweep  their  dewy  wings 
O'er  the  eyes  which  mirror 

Death's  imaginings. 

O  my  Lord,  my  SAVIOUR, 

In  the  deep  dead  gloom 
Which  enfolds  the  vision 

Passing  through  the  tomb. 


200  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 


To  my  darkened  eyesight 
Those  bright  beams  unfold. 

Call  me,  lead  me,  guide  me. 
To  the  gates  of  Gold. 


THE  CELESTIAL  COUNTRY. 


From  Bernard  trf  Qugny,  translated  by  Dr.  John  Mason  Neaus. 


'^T^HE  world  is  very  evil ; 

-■-      The  times  are  waxing  late : 
Be  sober  and  keep  vigil ; 

The  Judge  is  at  the  gate  : 
The  Judge  that  comes  in  mercy, 

The  Judge  that  comes  with  might, 
To  terminate  the  evil. 

To  diadem  the  right. 
When  the  just  and  gentle  Monarch 

Shall  summon  from  the  tomb, 
Let  man,  the  guilty,  tremble, 

For  Man,  the  GOD,  shall  doom. 
Arise,  arise,  good  Christian, 

Let  right  to  wrong  succeed  ; 
Let  penitential  sorrow 

To  heavenly  gladness  lead, 
To  the  light  that  hath  no  evening, 

That  knows  nor  moon  nor  sun. 
The  light  so  new  and  golden, 

The  light  that  is  but  one. 


THE    HEAVENLY   STATE.  20I 

And  when  the  Sole-Begotten 

Shall  render  up  once  more 
The  kingdom  to  the  Father 

Whose  own  it  was  before, — 
Then  glory  yet  unheard  of 
•  Shall  shed  abroad  its  ray, 
Resolving  all  enigmas, 

An  endless  Sabbath-day. 
Then,  then  from  his  oppressors 

The  Hebrew  shall  go  free, 
And  celebrate  in  triumph 

The  year  of  Jubilee  ; 
And  the  sunlight  Land  that  recks  not 

Of  tempest  nor  of  fight. 
Shall  fold  within  its  bosom 

Each  happy  Israelite : 
The  Home  of  fadeless  splendor, 

Of  flowers  that  fear  no  thorn, 
Where  they  shall  dwell  as  children, 

Who  here  as  exiles  mourn. 
Midst  power  that  knows  no  limit, 

And  wisdom  free  from  bound, 
The  Beatific  Vision 

Shall  glad  the  Saints  around : 
The  peace  of  all  the  faithful. 

The  calm  of  all  the  blest. 
Inviolate,  unvaried, 

Divinest,  sweetest,  best. 
Yes,  peace  !  for  war  is  needless, — 

Yes,  calm  !  for  storm  is  past, — 
And  goal  from  finished  labor, 

And  anchorage  at  last. 


202  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

That  peace — but  who  may  claim  it? 

The  guileless  in  their  way, 
Who  keep  the  ranks  of  battle, 

Who  mean  the  thing  they  say: 
The  peace  that  is  for  heaven, 

And  shall  be  for  the  earth  : 
The  palace  that  re-echoes 

With  festal  song  and  mirth ; 
The  garden,  breathing  spices, 

The  paradise  on  high  ; 
Grace  beautified  to  glory, 

Unceasing  minstrelsy. 
There  nothing  can  be  feeble, 

There  none  can  ever  mourn, 
There  nothing  is  divided, 

There  nothing  can  be  torn  : 
'Tis  fury,  ill,  and  scandal, 

*Tis  peaceless  peace  below ; 
Peace,  endless,  strifeless,  ageless, 

The  halls  of  Syon  know  : 
O  happy,  holy  portion. 

Refection  for  the  blest ; 
True  vision  of  true  beauty. 

Sweet  cure  of  all  distrest  ! 
Strive,  man,  to  win  that  glory ; 

Toil,  man,  to  gain  that  light ; 
Send  hope  before  to  grasp  it. 

Till  hope  be  lost  in  sight : 
Till  Jesus  gives  the  portion 

Those  blessed  souls  to  fill. 
The  insatiate,  yet  satisfied, 

The  full,  yet  craving  still. 


THE    HEAVENLY   STATE.  20^ 

That  fulness  and  that  craving 

Alike  are  free  from  pain, 
Where  thou,  midst  heavenly  citizens, 

A  home  like  theirs  shalt  gain. 
Here  is  the  warlike  trumpet ; 

There,  life  set  free  from  sin  ; 
When  to  the  last  Great  Supper 

The  faithful  shall  come  in  : 
When  the  heavenly  net  is  laden, 

With  fishes  many  and  great ; 
So  glorious  in  Its  fulness. 

Yet  so  inviolate  : 
And  the  perfect  from  the  shattered. 

And  the  fall'n  from  them  that  stand. 
And  the  sheep-flock  from  the  goat-herd 

Shall  part  on  either  hand : 
And  these  shall  pass  to  torment. 

And  those  shall  triumph,  then  ; 
The  new  peculiar  nation, 

Blest  number  of  blest  men. 
Jerusalem  demands  them  : 

They  paid  the  price  on  earth, 
And  now  shall  reap  the  harvest 

In  blissfulness  and  mirth  : 
The  glorious  holy  people, 

Who  evermore  relied 
Upon  their  Chief  and  Father, 

The  King,  the  Crucified  : 
The  sacred  ransomed  number 

Now  bright  with  endless  sheen, 
Who  made  the  Cross  their  watchword 

Of  Jesus  Nazarene: 


204  HEAVEN   IN    SONG. 

Who,  fed  with  heavenly,  nectar, 

Where  soul-like  odors  play, 
Draw  out  the  endless  leisure 

Of  that  long  vernal  day  : 
And  through  the  sacred  lihes. 

And  flowers  on  every  side, 
The  happy  dear-bought  people 

Go  wandering  far  and  wide. 
Their  breasts  are  filled  with  gladness. 

Their  mouths  are  tun'd  to  praise. 
What  time,  now  safe  for  ever. 

On  former  sins  they  gaze  : 
The  fouler  was  the  error, 

The  sadder  was  the  fall. 
The  ampler  are  the  praises 

or  Him  who  pardoned  all. 
Their  one  and  only  anthem, 

The  fulness  of  His  love, 
Who  gives  instead  of  torment, 

Eternal  joys  above  : 
Instead  of  torment,  glory ; 

Instead  of  death,  that  life 
Wherewith  your  happy  Country, 

True  Israelites!  is  rife. 
Brief  life  is  here  our  portion  ; 

Brief  sorrow,  short-lived  care  ; 
The  life  that  knows  no  ending, 

The  tearless  life,  is  there. 
O  happy  retribution ! 

Short  toil,  eternal  rest  ; 
For  mortals  and  for  sinners 

A  mansion  with  the  blest ! 


THE   HEAVENLY   STATE.  20$ 

That  we  should  look,  poor  wand'rers, 

To  have  our  home  on  high  ! 
That  worms  should  seek  for  dwellings 

Beyond  the  starry  sky  ! 
To  all  one  happy  guerdon 

Of  one  celestial  grace  ; 
For  all,  for  all,  who  mourn  their  fall, 

Is  one  eternal  place  : 
And  martyrdom  hath  roses 

Upon  that  heavenly  ground  : 
And  white  and  virgin  lilies 

For  virgin-souls  abound. 
There  grief  is  turned  to  pleasure  ; 

Such  pleasure,  as  below 
No  human  voice  can  utter, 

No  human  heart  can  know : 
And  after  fleshly  scandal. 

And  after  this  world's  night. 
And  after  storm  and  whirlwind. 

Is  calm,  and  joy,  and  light. 
And  now  we  fight  the  battle, 

But  then  shall  wear  the  crown 
Of  full  and  everlasting 

And  passionless  renown  : 
And  now  we  watch  and  struggle, 

And  now  we  live  in  hope, 
And  Syon,  in  her  anguish. 

With  Babylon  must  cope  ; 
But  He  whom  now  we  trust  in 

Shall  then  be  seen  and  known. 
And  they  that  know  and  see  Him 

Shall  have  Him  for  their  own. 


206  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

The  miserable  pleasures 

Of  the  body  shall  decay  : 
The  bland  and  flattering  struggles 

Of  the  flesh  shall  pass  away  ; 
And  none  shall  there  be  jealous  ; 

And  none  shall  there  contend  : 
Fraud,  clamor,  guile — what  say  I  ? 

All  ill,  all  ill  shall  end  ! 
And  there  is  David's  Fountain, 

And  life  in  fullest  glow, 
And  there  the  light  is  golden. 

And  milk  and  honey  flow : 
The  light  that  hath  no  evening, 

The  health  that  hath  no  sore, 
The  life  that  hath  no  ending. 

But  lasteth  evermore. 
There  Jesus  shall  embrace  us. 

There  Jesus  be  embraced — 
That  spirit's  food  and  sunshine 

Whence  earthly  love  is  chased. 
Amidst  the  happy  chorus, 

A  place,  however  low, 
Shall  shew  Him  us,  and  shewing, 

Shall  satiate  evermo. 
By  hope  we  struggle  onward. 

While  here  we  must  be  fed 
By  milk,  as  tender  infants. 

But  there  by  Living  Bread. 
The  night  was  full  of  terror, 

The  morn  is  bright  with  gladness 
The  Cross  becomes  our  harbor. 

And  we  triumph  after  sadness  : 


THE    HEAVENLY    STATE.  20/ 

And  Jesus  to  His  true  ones 

Brings  trophies  fair  to  see : 
And  Jesus  shall  be  loved,  and 

Beheld  in  Galilee ; 
Beheld,  when  morn  shall  waken. 

And  shadows  shall  decay, 
And  each  true-hearted  servant 

Shall  shine  as  doth  the  day : 
And  every  ear  shall  hear  it ; — 

Behold  thy  King's  array : 
Behold  thy  GOD  in  beauty, 

The  Law  hath  past  away ! 
Yes  !  God  my  King  and  Portion, 

In  fulness  of  His  grace, 
We  then  shall  see  for  ever. 

And  worship  face  to  face. 
Then  Jacob  into  Israel, 

From  earthlier  self  estranged, 
And  Leah  into  Rachel 

For  ever  shall  be  changed : 
Then  all  the  halls  of  Syon 

For  aye  shall  be  complete, 
And,  in  the  Land  of  Beauty, 

All  things  of  beauty  meet. 
For  thee,  O  dear,  dear  Country ! 

Mine  eyes  their  vigils  keep  ; 
For  very  love,  beholding 

Thy  happy  name,  they  weep  : 
The  mention  of  thy  glory 

Is  unction  to  the  breast, 
And  medicine  in  sickness. 

And  love,  and  life,  and  rest. 


208  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

O  one,  O  onely  Mansion  ! 

O  Paradise  of  Joy  ! 
Where  tears  are  ever  banished, 

And  smiles  have  no  alloy ; 
Beside  thy  living  waters 

All  plants  are,  great  and  small, 
The  cedar  of  the  forest, 

The  hyssop  of  the  wall  : 
With  jaspers  glow  thy  bulwarks  ; 

Thy  streets  with  emeralds  blaze  ; 
The  sardius  and  the  topaz 

Unite  in  thee  their  rays : 
Thine  ageless  walls  are  bonded 

With  amethyst  unpriced  : 
Thy  Saints  build  up  its  fabric, 

And  the  corner  stone  is  Christ. 
The  Cross  is  all  thy  splendor. 

The  Crucified  thy  praise  : 
His  laud  and  benediction 

Thy  ransomed  people  raise  : 
Jesus,  the  Gem  of  Beauty, 

True  God  and  Man,  they  sing : 
The  never-failing  Garden, 

The  ever-golden  Ring : 
The  Door,  the  Pledge,  the  Husband, 

The  Guardian  of  his  Court  : 
The  Day-star  of  Salvation, 

The  Porter  and  the  Port. 
Thou  hast  no  shore,  fair  ocean  ! 

Thou  hast  no  time,  bright  day  ! 
Dear  fountain  of  refreshment 

To  pilgrims  far  away  ! 


THE    HF.AVEXLY    STATE.  209 

Upon  the  Rock  of  Ages 

They  raise  thy  holy  tower : 
Thine  is  the  victor's  laurel, 

And  thine  the  golden  dower  : 
Thou  feel'st  in  mystic  rapture, 

O  Bride  that  know'st  no  guile, 
The  Prince's  sweetest  kisses, 

The  Prince's  loveliest  smile  ; 
Unfading  lilies,  bracelets 

Of  living  pearl  thine  own  ; 
The  Lamb  is  ever  near  thee. 

The  Bridegroom  thine  alone ; 
The  Crown  is  He  to  guerdon, 

The  Buckler  to  protect, 
And  He  Himself  the  Mansion 

And  He  the  Architect. 
The  only  art  thou  needest. 

Thanksgiving  for  thy  lot : 
The  only  joy  thou  seekest, 

The  Life  where  Death  is  not : 
And  all  thine  endless  leisure 

In  sweetest  accents  sings. 
The  ill  that  was  thy  merit, — 

The  wealth  that  is  thy  King's  ! 
Jerusalem  the  golden, 

With  milk  and  honey  blest, 
Beneath  thy  contemplation 

Sink  heart  and  voice  oppressed : 
I  know  not,  O  I  know  not. 

What  social  joys  are  there  ; 
What  radiancy  of  glory. 

What  light  beyond  compare  ! 
14 


2IO  HEAVEN    IN    SONG. 

And  when  I  fain  would  sing  them 

My  spirit  fails  and  faints  ; 
And  vainly  would  it  image 

The  assembly  of  the  Saints. 
They  stand,  those  halls  of  Syon, 

Conjubilant  with  song, 
And  bright  with  many  an  angel, 

And  all  the  martyr  throng : 
The  Prince  is  ever  in  them  ; 

The  daylight  is  serene  ; 
The  pastures  of  the  Blessed 

Are  decked  in  glorious  sheen. 
There  is  the  Throne  of  David, — 

And  there,  from  care  released, 
The  song  of  them  that  triumph, 

The  shout  of  them  that  feast ; 
And  they  who,  with  their  Leader 

Have  conquered  in  the  fight 
For  ever  and  for  ever 

Are  clad  in  robes  of  white ! 
O  holy,  placid  harp-notes 

Of  that  eternal  hymn  ! 
O  sacred,  sweet  refection, 

And  peace  of  Seraphim  ! 
O  thirst,  for  ever  ardent. 

Yet  evermore  content ! 
O  true  peculiar  vision 

Of  God  cunctipotent ! 
Ye  know  the  many  mansions 

For  many  a  glorious  name. 
And  divers  retributions 

That  divers  merits  claim: 


THE    HEAVENLY   STATE.  211 

For  midst  the  constellations 

That  deck  our  earthly  sky, 
This  star  than  that  is  brighter, — 

And  so  it  is  on  high. 
Jerusalem  the  glorious  ! 

The  glory  of  the  Elect ! 
O  dear  and  future  vision 

That  eager  hearts  expect  : 
Even  now  by  faith  I  see  thee  : 

Even  here  thy  walls  discern  : 
To  thee  my  thoughts  are  kindled, 

And  strive  and  pant  and  yearn 
Jerusalem  the  onely, 

That  look'st  from  heaven  below 
In  thee  is  all  my  glory  ; 

In  me  is  all  my  woe  : 
And  though  my  body  may  not, 

My  spirit  seeks  thee  fain. 
Till  flesh  and  earth  return  me 

To  earth  and  flesh  again. 
O  none  can  tell  thy  bulwarks, 

How  gloriously  they  rise  : 
O  none  can  tell  thy  capitals 

Of  beautiful  device  : 
Thy  loveliness  oppresses 

All  human  thought  and  heart : 
And  none,  O  peace,  O  Syon, 

Can  sing  thee  as  thou  art. 
New  mansion  of  new  people. 

Whom  God's  own  love  and  light 
Promote,  increase,  make  holy, 

Identify,  unite. 


212  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Thou  City  of  the  Angels  ! 

Thou  city  of  the  Lord  ! 
Whose  everlasting  music 

Is  the  glorious  decachord  ! 
And  there  the  band  of  Prophets 

United  praise  ascribes. 
And  there  the  twelvefold  chorus 

Of  Israel's  ransomed  tribes: 
The  lily-beds  of  virgins, 

The  roses'  martyr-glow, 
The  cohort  of  the  Fathers 

Who  kept  the  faith  below. 
And  there  the  Sole-Begotten 

Is  Lord  in  regal  state ; 
He,  Judah's  mystic  Lion, 

He,  Lamb  Immaculate. 
O  fields  that  know  no  sorrow  ! 

O  state  that  fears  no  strife  ! 

0  princely  bow'rs  !     O  land  of  flow'rs  ! 

0  realm  and  home  of  life  ! 
Jerusalem,  exulting 

On  the  securest  shore, 

1  hope  thee,  wish  thee,  sing  thee, 
And  love  thee  evermore  ! 

I  ask  not  for  my  merit : 

1  seek  not  to  deny 
My  merit  is  destruction, 

A  child  of  wrath  am  I  : 
But  yet  with  Faith  I  venture 

And  Hope  upon  my  way  ; 
For  those  perennial  guerdons 

I  labor  night  and  day. 


THE   HEAVENLY   STATE.  213 

The  best  and  dearest  FATHER 

Who  made  me  and  Who  saved, 
Bore  with  me  in  defilement, 

And  from  defilement  laved  : 
When  in  His  strength  I  struggle, 

For  very  joy  I  leap, 
When  in  my  sin  I  totter, 

I  weep,  or  try  to  weep : 
And  grace,  sweet  grace  celestial, 

Shall  all  its  love  display. 
And  David's  Royal  Fountain 

Purge  every  sin  away. 
O  mine,  my  golden  Syon  ! 
O  lovelier  far  than  gold  ! 
With  laurel-girt  battalions, 

And  safe  victorious  fold  : 
O  sweet  and  blessed  Country, 

Shall  I  ever  see  thy  face  ? 

0  sweet  and  blessed  Country, 
Shall  I  ever  win  thy  grace  ? 

1  have  the  hope  within  me 
To  comfort  and  to  bless ! 

Shall  I  ever  win  the  prize  itself? 

O  tell  me,  tell  me,  Yes  ! 
Exult,  O  dust  and  ashes ! 

The  Lord  shall  be  thy  part : 
His  only,  His  for  ever. 

Thou  shalt  be,  and  thou  art ! 
Exult,  O  dust  and  ashes  ! 

The  Lord  shall  be  thy  part : 
His  only.  His  for  ever, 

Thou  shalt  be,  and  thou  art ! 


214  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


THE  BETTER  COUNTRY. 


Another  translation  of  the  foregoing  hymn  of  Bernard  of  Clugny, 
By  Dr.  Abraham  Coles. 


THE  last  of  the  hours,  iniquity  towers, 
The  times  are  the  worst,  let  us  vigils  be  keeping  ! 
Lest  the  Judge  who  is  near,  and  soon  to  appear. 
Shall  us  at  His  coming  find  slumbering  and  sleeping. 
He  is  nigh  !  He  is  nigh  !  He  descends  from  the  sky, 
For  the  ending  of  evil,  the  right's  coronation. 
The  just  to  reward,  relief  to  afford, 
And  the  heavens  bestow  for  the  saints'  habitation : 
To  lift  and  unbind  grievous  weights  from  the  mind, 
To  give  every  man  what  is  just  and  is  equal. 
To  make  the  good  glad,  and  punish  the  bad. 
To  the  praise  of  His  justice  and  grace  in  the  sequek 
Most  clement  and  dear,  most  just  and  severe, 
Lo  I  Cometh  the  King  in  terrible  splendor ; 
Man  springs  from  the  sod,  and  the  Man  who  is  God, 
The  Judge  from  the  Father,  stands  sentence  to  render. 
The  life  here  below,  so  brief  is  brief  woe, 
A  brief  mortal  space  for  weeping  afforded  ; 
Not  briefly  to  sigh,  then  lie  down  and  die, 
Is  the  life  that's  to  be  hereafter  awarded. 
O  most  blessed  award !  the  gift  of  the  Lord, 
A  life  whose  long  years  cannot  be  computed  ; 
O  strange  award  given !  a  mansion  in  heaven. 
Assigned  to  the  guilty,  the  sometime  polluted. 
What's  given,  and  to  whom?    In  the  firmament,  room 


THE    HEAVENLY   STATE.  21 5 

To  the  needy,  and  those  by  the  cross  worthy  rendered — 
Yea,  on  Mercy's  sweet  terms,  orbs  celestial  to  worms, 
To  felons  the  best,  to  the  hateful  stars  tendered. 
Now  are  battles  most  hard  ;  after  these  the  reward. 
Reward  of  what  sort  ?     Reward  without  measure  ; 
Full  refreshment,  repose,  full  exemption  from  woes, 
No  suffering,  no  pain,  only  unalloyed  pleasure. 
Now  live  we  in  hope,  and  Zion  must  cope 
With  Babylon  proud  and  the  powers  infernal ; 
Now  affliction  makes  sad,  then  delight  shall  make  glad, 
And  there  shall  be  crowns  and  sceptres  supernal. 
Then  new  glory  divine  on  the  righteous  shall  shine, 
And  chase  from  their  breasts  the  darkness  that  paineth  ; 
Chase  doubt  and  chase  fear,  and  enigmas  make  clear — 
The  light  of  true  sabbaths.  *' the  rest  that  remaineth." 
All  free  from  the  foe  and  his  master  shall  go 
The  Hebrew,  whose  feet  heavy  chains  now  environ, — 
He  henceforth  held  free  shall  keep  jubilee, 
No  more  to  be  bound  in  affliction  and  iron. 
A  country  of  light,  unacquainted  with  night. 
Where  of  tempest  and  strife  nothing  breaks  the  deep 

slumber. 
With  inhabitants  free  it  replenished  shall  be — 
Enlarged  with  true  IsraeHtes  countless  in  number: 
Country  splendid  and  grand,  and  a  flowery  land 
That's  free  from  all  thorns  and  free  from  all  dangers, 
Is  there  to  be  given  to  the  free  born  of  heaven — 
The  faithful,  who  here  are  now  pilgrims  and  strangers 
Shall  then  be  unrolled,  to  all  that  behold 
The  face  of  the  Thunderer,  and  to  such  solely, 
The  utmost  extreme  of  power  supreme. 
Full  knowledge,  the  unutterable  peace  of  the  holy  • 


2l6  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

A  peace  by  the  tongue  of  slander  unstung; 

A  peace  without  storm,  without  wranghng  or  rancor ; 

To  labors  a  goal,  and  to  billows  that  roll, 

And  tumults  a  fixed  immovable  anchor. 

My  King  is  my  part,  God  Himself  in  my  heart, 

In  His  own  proper  beauty  august  and  endearing, 

I  shall  see  and  enshrine  and  challenge  as  mine, — 

My  Author  and  Saviour, — before  Him  appearing. 

Then  the  Israel  of  grace  shall  Jacob  displace, 

And  Leah  be  Rachel  in  form  and  affection  ; 

Then  Zion  shall  stand,  a  beautiful  land. 

In  all  the  completeness  of  God-like  perfection. 

O  country  most  dear,  our  longing  eyes  here, 

As  they  view  thee  afar,  with  desire  are  aching ; 

At  the  sound  of  thy  name  our  hearts  are  aflame, 

And  our  eyes  are  aweary  'twixt  weeping  and  waking. 

Thy  mention  brings  rest,  is  balm  to  the  breast, 

Is  the  cure  of  our  grief  and  takes  away  sadness; 

The  thinking  of  thee  and  the  bliss  that  shall  be. 

Is  a  fire  of  love  and  a  fountain  of  gladness. 

The  only  place  thou  that  draws  our  hearts  now, — 

Thou  Paradise  art,  thou  our  blissful  Hereafter ; 

No  tears  are  found  there,  no  sorrow,  no  care, 

But  serenest  rejoicings  and  innocent  laughter. 

There  planted  are  seen,  eternally  green, 

The  laurel  and  cedar,  with  the  hyssop  low  growing; 

There  are  walls  with  the  rays  of  the  jasper  ablaze. 

With  the  carbuncle  bright,  incandescent  and   glowing 

The  sardius  shines  there,  here  the  topaz  most  rare. 

Here  the  beams  of  the  amethyst  with  the  rest  mingle 

To  thy  fabric  belong  the  heavenly  throng. 

The  corner-stone  Christ,  gem  precious  and  single. 


THF.    HEAVENLY   STATE.  217 

Without  shore,  without  time,  everlasting,  sublime, 
Thou,  fountain  and  stream  late  hitherward  flowing, 
To  the  good  tastest  sweet,  living  rock  at  their  feet, 
That  all  through  the  wilderness  gladdened  their  going. 
Thine's  the  laurel's  green  crown,  with   its  leaf  never 

brown  ; 
Rich  dower  all  golden,  fair  spouse,  is  thee  given ; 
Thine's  the  exquisite  bliss,  of  the  Prince's  first  kiss, 
And  the  sight  of  His  face  like  a  vision  of  heaven. 
Fair  lilies  and  white,  living  gems  flashing  bright 
Compose,  happy  spouse,  thy  bridal  adorning  ; 
Sits  the  Lamb  by  thy  side,  and  beams  on  His  bride. 
Like  the  sun  when  He  breaks  through  the  gates  of  the 

morning : 
Thy  whole  sweet  employ,  in  triumph  and  joy, 
Sweet  anthems  of  praise  to  warble  forever  : 
Evils  merited  tell,  blessings  granted  as  well. 
With  shoutings  to  grace  that  terminate  never. 
City  golden  and  blest,  from  thy  fields'  teeming  breast 
Flow  rivers  of  milk, — fair  people,  fair  dwellings  ; 
Thou  the  whole  heart  dost  whelm,  such  the  charms  of 

thy  realm. 
Choked  is  the  voice  with  the  heart's  mighty  swellings. 
Confined  here  below,  I  pretend  not  to  know. 
What  forms  this  rejoicing,  the  kind  of  light  given  ; 
Nor  hew  lofty  the  heights  of  those  social  delights, 
Nor  how  special  the  glory  that  constitutes  heaven. 
These  striving  to  raise  in  an  effort  of  praise. 
My  mind  overmastered,  lo  !  fainteth  and  faileth  ; 
O  glory  unknown,  I  am  conquered  I  own, 
Thy  superior  praise  in  all  things  prevaileth. 
There  are  shoutings  and  calls  in  thy  echoing  halls, 


2l8  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

With  the  martyr  host  full,  a  glorious  muster, 
With  the  citizen,  bright,  with  the  Prince  aye  in  sight, 
Serene  evermore  with  a  soft,  sacred  lustre. 
There  sweet  pastures  around  for  the  gentle  abound, 
For  the  saints  a  dear  flock  by  the  water  brooks  graz- 
ing; 
There's  the  throne  of  the  King,  there  the  palace-walls 

ring 
With  the  sound  of  a  multitude  feasting  and  praising. 
Nation   glorious  and   grand,  through  the  conquering 

hand 
Of  the  Leader,  a  host  in  white  vestments  shining, 
Through  the  long  rolling  years  they  remain  without 

tears  ; 
In  the  dwellings  of  Zion  there  is  rest  from  repining. 
Without  crime,  without  storm,  to  mar  and  deform, 
Without  weapons  of  strife,  without  matter  of  quarrel, 
The  Israelites  blest  in  their  lofty  homes  rest, — 
The  olive  of  peace  intertwined  with  the  laurel. 

0  illustrious  name,  Zion,  highest  in  fame. 
Whose  glory  is  that  to  the  glorified  owing, 

Thou  dost  knowledge  dispense  to  the  innermost  sense, 
Thy  innermost  good  thus  secretly  showing. 
My  innermost  eyes,  thus  piercing  the  skies, 
From  the  minds'  highest  peaks  delighted  behold  thee; 
Now  my  breast,  all  on  fire  with  hope  and  desire, 
Transported  expects  sometime  to  enfold  thee. 
Thou  Zion  art  one,  beside  thee  is  none, — 
Upreared  in  the  skies  a  mystical  dwelling — 
Now  in  thee  I  am  glad,  now  in  me  I  am  sad, 

1  sob  and  I  sigh  with  breast  heaving  and  swelling. 
Since  the  body's  dull  clod  keeps  me  back  from  my  God, 


THE    HEAVENLY    STATE.  219 

Thee  to  pierce  I  oft  try  with  spiritual  pinion  ; 

But  earthly  flesh,  fleshly  earth,  makes  the  attempt  lit- . 

tie  worth, 
And  I  quickly  fall  back  to  the  senses'  dominion. 
No  mortal  may  dare  with  his  mouth  to  declare — 
The  task  were  presumptuous  and  desperate  the  duty — 
Where  thy  walls,  how  they  rise,  in  what  part  of  the 

skies 
Thy  capitals  shine  complete  in  their  beauty. 
Thy  charms,  they  weigh  down  the  heart  wholly  and 

drown, 

0  Zion  !  O  Peace  beyond  all  conceiving! 

City  blest,  without  time,  dear,  tranquil,  sublime  ! 
No  possible  praise  can  e'er  be  deceiving. 
No  delights  vain  and  lewd,  and  no  sorrows  intrude. 
No  strife  with  its  wasting,  its  burning  and  blasting; 
Home  happy  and  high,  flowery  land  of  the  sky. 
Land  native  to  bliss  and  the  life  everlasting. 
City,  seen  from  afar,  where  the  glorified  are. 
On  a   safe  and  high  shore,  lo  !  thy  towers  are  soar- 
ing; 
Thee  I  sue,  I  admire,  thee  I  love,  I  desire. 
Sing  hymns  unto  thee,  and  salute  thee  adoring. 
Not  on  merit,  but  grace,  I  rest  solely  my  case. 
For,  measured  by  merit,  condemned  my  condition ; 
Not  dumb  and  perverse  do  I  cover  the  worse — 

1  own  I'm  a  child  of  wrath  and  perdition. 

My  life's  a  life  spilt,  void  of  good,  full  of  guilt ; 

A  life  like  to  death,  without  vital  expressions ; 

Its  innocence  quenched,  from  its  proper  life  wrenched, 

Destroyed  by  reason  of  deadly  transgressions. 

Notwithstanding  in  hope  I  walk  softly  and  grope, 


220  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

In  hope  and  in  faith  heavenly  guerdons  beseeching; 
1,  trembling  and  weak,  eternal  joys  seek — 
By  night  and  by  day  imploring  hands  reaching. 
Our  P'ather  above,  whose  nature  is  love, 
The  best  and  the  dearest,  He  made  and  He  saved  me. 
With  my  vileness  He  bore,  from  my  vileness  He  tore, 
From  my  sin  and  uncleanness  He  graciously  laved  me  ; 
Grace  celestial  alone,  direct  from  the  throne, 
Is  the  sovereign  provision  of  God's  own  appointing, 
The  sordid  of  soul  to  save  and  make  whole, 
For  inward  diseases  the  potent  anointing. 
Grace  washes  away  all  pollution  for  aye, — 
The  Fountain  of  David,  as  free  as  redundant, 
Makes  pure  all  within,  makes  clean  from  all  sin, 
To  all  alike  flows  in  measure  abundant. 
O  excellent  grace  !  to  an  excellent  place 
Me  raise  to  discern  stately  palaces  gleaming  ; 
At  a  distance,  at  least,  see  the  heavenly  feast 
With  hoUest  mirth  and  melody  teeming. 
Thou  Zion  !  O  mine,  my  hope  all  divine  ! 
Like  gold,  but  far  nobler,  to  our  dazzled  eyes  loom- 
ing, 
Most  brilliant  thy  host,  but  their  Leader's' thy  boast, 
Brave  region  with  laurel  perpetually  blooming. 
O  Country  most  sweet,  shall  my  eyes  ever  greet 
Thy  turrets  and  towers,  and^know  thy  enjoyments? 

0  Country  most  blest,  e'er  in  thee  shall  I  rest. 
Possess  thy  rewards  and  share  thy  employments  ? 
Tell  me,  I  pray,  render  answer,  and  say : 

Thou  shalt  hereafter  most  surely  behold  me — 

1  hope  entertain,  the  thing  hoped  shall  I  gain  ? 

O  say :  Thou  forever  shalt  have,  and  shalt  hold  me 


THE    HEAVENLY   STATE.  221 

Advanced  to  that  sphere,  O  holy,  most  dear, 
O  blessed,  thrice  blessed,  and  blessed  forever, 
Who  with  cleaving  of  heart,  chooses  God  for  his  part : 
O  wretched,  undone,  who  from  this  shall  him  sever. 


OH,  PARADISE  MUST  SHOW  MORE  FAIR. 


From  the  German  of  Friedrich  Ruckert.     By  Richard  C.  Trench. 


OH  Paradise  must  show  more  fair 
Than  any  earthly  ground  ; 
And  therefore  longs  my  spirit  there 
Right  quickly  to  be  found. 

In  Paradise  a  stream  must  flow 
Of  everlasting  love ; 
Each  tear  of  longing  shed  below 
Therein  a  pearl  will  prove. 

In  Paradise  a  breath  of  balm 
All  anguish  must  allay. 
Till  every  anguish  growing  calm, 
Even  mine  shall  flee  away. 

And  there  the  tree  of  stillest  peace 
In  verdant  spaces  grows  : 
Beneath  it  one  can  never  cease 
To  dream  of  blest  repose. 


222  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

A  cherub  at  the  gate  must  be 

Fan  off  the  world  to  fray, 

That  its  rude  noises  reach  not  me 

To  fright  my  dream  away. 
• 

My  heart,  that  weary  ship,  at  last 
Safe  haven  there  will  gain, 
And  on  the  breast  will  slumber  fast 
The  wakeful  infant,  Pain. 

For  every  thorn  that  pierced  me  here 
The  rose  will  there  be  found  ; 
With  joy,  earth's  roses  brought  not  near 
My  head  will  there  be  crowned. 

There  all  delights  will  blossom  forth 
That  here  in  bud  expire, 
And  from  all  mourning  weeds  of  earth 
Be  wove  a  bright  attire. 

All  here  I  sought  in  vain  pursuit 
Will  freely  meet  me  there, 
As  from  green  branches  golden  fruit, 
Fair  flowers  from  gardens  fair. 

My  youth,  that  by  me  swept  amain, 
On  swift  wing  borne  away, 
And  Love,  that  suffered  me  to  drain. 
Its  nectar  for  a  day — 

These  never  wishing  to  depart. 
Will  me  forever  bless, 
Their  darling  fold  unto  the  heart, 
And  comfort  and  caress. 


THE    HEAVENLY   STATE.  223 

And  there  the  Loveliness,  whose  glance 
From  far  did  on  me  gleam, 
But  whose  unveiled  countenance 
Was  only  seen  in  dream, 

Will,  meeting  all  my  souFs  desires, 
Unveil  itself  to  me, 
When  to  the  choir  of  starry  lyres, 
Shall  mine  united  be. 


OH  WHAT  IS  THIS  SPLENDOR? 


Frederick  William  Fabek. 


OH  what  is  this  splendor  that  beams  on  me  now. 
This  beautiful  sunrise  that  dawns  on  my  soul, 
While  faint  and  far  off  land  and  sea  lie  below. 
And  under  my  feet  the  huge  golden  clouds  roll  ? 

To  what  mighty  king  doth  this  city  belong, 

With  its  rich  jewelled  shrines,  and  its  gardens  of 
flowers, 
With  its  breaths  of  sweet  incense,   its  measures  of 
song. 
And  the  light  that  is  gilding  its  numberless  towers  ? 

See !  forth  from  the  gates,  like  a  bridal  array. 

Come  the  princes  of  heaven,  how  bravely  they  shine  ! 

*Tis  to  welcome  the  stranger,  to  show  me  the  way. 
And  to  tell  me  that  all  I  see  round  me  is  mine. 


224  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

There  are  millions  of  saints,  in  their  ranks  and  degrees, 
And  each  with  a  beauty  and  crown  of  his  own  ; 

And  there,  far  outnumbering  the  sands  of  the  seas. 
The  nine  rings  of  Angels  encircle  the  throne. 

And  far  in  the  heart  of  that  glorious  light 
The  mighty  Apostles  are  seated  in  state. 

With  Joseph  and  John,  who  in  life's  mortal  night 
Were  appointed  on  Jesus  and  Mary  to  wait. 

And  oh  if  the  exiles  of  earth  could  but  win 
One  sight  of  the  beauty  of  Jesus  above, 

From  that  hour  they  would  cease  to  be  able  to  sin. 
And  earth  would  be  heaven  ;  for  heaven  is  love. 

But  words  may  not  tell  of  the  Vision  of  Peace, 
With  its  worshipful  seeming,  its  marvellous  fires  ; 

Where  the  soul  is  at  large,  where  its  sorrows  all  cease. 
And  the  gift  has  outbidden  its  boldest  desires. 

No  sickness  is  here,  no  bleak  bitter  cold. 
No  hunger,  debt,  prison,  or  weariful  toil  ; 

No  robbers  to  rifle  our  treasures  of  gold, 
No  rust  to  corrupt,  and  no  canker  to  spoil. 

My  God !  and  it  was  but  a  short  hour  ago 
That  I  lay  on  a  bed  of  unbearable  pains  ; 

All  was  cheerless  around  me,  all  weeping  and  woe ; 
Now  the  wailing  is  changed  to  angelical  strains. 

Because  I  served  Thee,  were  life's  pleasures  all  lost  ? 

Was  it  gloom,  pain,  or  blood,  that  won  heaven  for 
me? 
Oh  no !  one  enjoyment  alone  could  life  boast, 

And  that,  dearest  Lord !  was  my  service  of  Thee. 


THE   HEAVENLY   STATE.  225 

I  had  hardly  to  give ;  'twas  enough  to  receive, 
Only  not  to  impede  the  sweet  grace  from  above  ; 

And,  this  first  hour  in  heaven,  I  can  hardly  believe 
Is  so  great  a  reward  for  so  little  a  love. 


PLEASANT  ARE  THY  COURTS  ABOVE. 


Henry  Francis  Lytb. 


PLEASANT  are  Thy  courts  above, 
In  the  land  of  light  and  love  ; 
Pleasant  are  Thy  courts  below, 
In  this  land  of  sin  and  woe. 
O,  my  spirit  longs  and  faints 
For  the  converse  of  Thy  saints, 
For  the  brightness  of  Thy  face, 
King  of  Glory,  God  of  grace  ! 

Happy  birds,  that  sing  and  fly 
Round  Thy  altars,  O  most  High ! 
Happier  souls,  that  find  a  rest 
In  a  Heavenly  Father's  breast ! 
Like  the  wandering  dove  that  found 
No  repose  on  earth  around, 
They  can  ta  their  ark  repair, 
And  enjoy  it  ever  there. 

Lord,  be  mine  this  prize  to  win  ; 
Guide  me  through  a  world  of  sin  ; 
Keep  me  by  Thy  saving  grace  ; 
Give  me  at  Thy  side  a  place. 
15 


226  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Sun  and  shield  alike  Thou  art  . 
Guide  and  guard  my  erring  heart  ; 
Grace  and  glory  flow  from  Thee  ; 
Shower,  O  shower  them,  Lord,  on  me. 


ON  YONDER    HOLY  GROUND. 


HORATIUS  BONAR. 


THESE  are  the  crowns  that  we  shall  wear, 
When  all  thy  saints  are  crowned  ; 
These  are  the  palms  that  we  shall  bear 
On  yonder  holy  ground. 

Far  off  as  yet,  reserved  in  heaven, 

Above  that  veiling  sky. 
They  sparkle  like  the  stars  of  even. 

To  hope's  far-piercing  eye. 

These  are  the  robes,  unsoiled  and  white, 

Which  then  we  shall  put  on. 
When,  foremost  'mong  the  sons  of  light, 

We  sit  on  yonder  throne. 

That  city  with  the  jewelled  crest, 

Like  some  new-lighted  sun  ; 
A  blaze  of  burning  amethyst — 

Ten  thousand  orbs  in  one  ; — 

That  is  the  city  of  the  saints. 

Where  we  so  soon  shall  stand. 
When  we  shall  strike  these  desert-tents. 

And  quit  this  desert-sand. 


THE    HEAVENLY   STATE.  227 

These  are  the  everlasting  hills, 

With  summits  bathed  in  day  : 
The  slopes  down  which  the  living  rills, 

Soft-lapsing,  take  their  way. 

Fair  vision  !  how  thy  distant  gleam 

Brightens  time's  saddest  hue  ; 
Far  fairer  than  the  fairest  dream, 

And  yet  so  strangely  true  ! 

Fair  vision  !  how  thou  liftest  up 

The  drooping  brow  and  eye  ; 
With  the  calm  joy  of  thy  sure  hope 

Fixing  our  souls  on  high. 

Thy  light  makes  even  the  darkest  page 

In  memory's  scroll  grow  fair ; 
Blanching  the  lines  which  tears  and  age 

Had  only  deepened  there. 

With  thee  in  view,  the  rugged  slope 

Becomes  a  level  way. 
Smoothed  by  the  magic  of  thy  hope, 

And  gladdened  by  thy  ray. 

With  thee  in  view,  how  poor  appear 

The  world's  most  winning  smiles  ; 
Vain  is  the  tempter's  subtlest  snare. 

And  vain  hell's  varied  wiles. 

Time's  glory  fades  ;  its  beauty  now 

Has  ceased  to  lure  or  blind  ; 
Each  gay  enchantment  here  below 

Has  lost  its  power  to  bind. 


228  .     HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

Then  welcome  toil,  and  care,  and  pain ! 

And  welcome  sorrow  too  ! 
All  toil  is  rest,  all  grief  is  gain, 

With  such  a  prize  in  view. 

Come  crown  and  throne,  come  robe  and  palm  ! 

Burst  forth,  glad  stream  of  peace! 
Come,  holy  city  of  the  Lamb  ! 

Rise,  Sun  of  Righteousness  ! 

When  shall  the  clouds  that  veil  thy  rays 

Forever  be  withdrawn  ? 
Why  dost  thou  tarry,  day  of  days  ? 

When  shall  thy  gladness  dawn  ? 


THE  CENTRE  OF  MY  BLISS. 


Samuel  Grossman. 


JERUSALEM  on  high 
My  song  and  city  is, 
My  home  whene'er  I  die, 
The  centre  of  my  bliss  : 
O  happy  place ! 
When  shall  I  be, 
My  God,  with  Thee, 
To  see  Thy  face  ? 

Thy  walls,  sweet  city,  thine, 
With  pearls  are  garnished  ; 
Thy  gates  with  praises  shine, 
Thy  streets  with  gold  are  spread 


THE    HEAVENLY   STATE.  229 

O  happy  place ! 

When  shall  I  be, 

My  God,  with  Thee, 
To  see  Thy  face  ? 

No  sun  by  day  shines  there, 
Nor  moon  by  silent  night  ; 
O  no  !  these  needless  are  ; 
The  Lamb's  the  city's  light. 
O  happy  place ! 
When  shall  I  be, 
My  God,  with  Thee, 
To  see  Thy  face  ? 

There  dwells  my  Lord,  my  King, 
Judged  here  unfit  to  live  ; 
There  angels  to  Him  sing, 
And  lowly  homage  give. 
O  happy  place ! 
When  shall  I  be, 
My  God,  with  Thee, 
To  see  Thy  face  ? 

The  patriarchs  of  old 
There  from  their  travels  cease : 
The  prophets  there  behold 
Their  longed-for  Prince  of  Peace. 
O  happy  place  ! 
When  shall  I  be. 
My  God,  with  Thee, 
To  see  Thy  face  ? 


230  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

The  Lamb's  apostles  there 
I  might  with  joy  behold  ; 
The  harpers  I  might  hear 
Harping  on  harps  of  gold. 
O  happy  place ! 
When  shall  I  be, 
My  God,  with  Thee, 
To  see  Thy  face  ? 


IN  JESUS^  SIGHT. 


Georgb  H,  Houghton. 


JERUSALEM !     Jerusalem ! 
It  is  not  to  behold 
The  glory  of  thy  jasper-walls, 
Thy  streets  of  purest  gold  ; 

To  see  the  twelve  Apostles'  names 

Upon  thy  bulwark  traced  ; 
Thy  gates — each  one  a  solid  pearl, 

By  each  an  angel  placed  ; 

The  stream  of  life  from  'neath  the  throne, 

Nor  yet  that  throne  to  see — 
That  I  would  pray,  "  O  may  my  home 

Be  found  at  last  in  Thee !  " 

No  earthly  eye  I  know  hath  seen 

The  glories  that  are  thine ; 
Nor  ear  hath  heard  such  strains  as  rise 

From  'mid  the  host  divine. 


THE   HEAVENLY    STATE.  23 1 

But  more  than  all  thy  streets  can  boast 

My  eager  eyes  would  see  ! 
Jesus,  the  precious  Lamb  of  God, 

Who  died  to  ransom  me  ! 

''Jerusalem!  Jerusalem! 

Name  ever  dear  to  me, 
O  may  at  last  my  name  be  found," 

With  Christ,  my  Lord,  in  Thee ! 


THY    GATES   OF    GLISTENING    PEARL    UN- 
FOLD, 


John  Henry  Hopkins,  Jr. 


JERUSALEM,  my  Home, 
I  see  thy  walls  arise  ; 
Their  jasper  clear  and  sardine  stone 

Flash  radiance  through  the  skies. 

In  clouds  of  heaven-descending. 

With  angel  train  attending. 
Thy  gates  of  glistening  pearl  unfold 

On  streets  of  glassy  gold. 
No  sun  is  there,  no  day  or  night ; 
But  of  seven-fold  splendors  bright, 
Thy  Temple  is  the  Light  of  Light, 

Jerusalem,  my  Home. 

Jerusalem,  my  Home, 
Where  shines  the  royal  Throne, 
Each  king  casts  down  his  golden  crown 
Before  the  Lamb  thereon. 
Thence  flows  the  crystal  River, 
And,  flowing  on  forever, 


2'32  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

With  leaves  and  fruits  on  either  hand, 

The  Tree  of  Life  shall  stand. 
In  blood-washed  robes,  all  white  and  fair, 
The  Lamb  shall  lead  His  chosen  there, 
While  clouds  of  incense  fill  the  air, 
Jerusalem,  my  Home. 

Jerusalem,  my  Home, 

Where  saints  in  triumph  sing. 
While,  tuned  in  tones  of  golden  harps, 

Heaven's  boundless  arches  ring. 

No  more  in  tears  and  sighing 

Our  weak  hosannas  dying. 
But  hallelujah  loud  and  high 

Roll  thundering  through  the  sky. 
One  chorus  thrills  their  countless  throngs  ; 
Ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand  tongues 
Fill  them  with  overwhelming  songs, 

Jerusalem,  my  Home. 

Jerusalem,  my  Home, 

Thou  sole  all  glorious  Bride, 
Creation  shouts  with  joy  to  see 

Thy  Bridegroom  at  thy  side : 

The  Man  yet  interceding. 

His  Hands  and  Feet  yet  bleeding, 
And  Him  the  billowy  hosts  adore 

Lord  God  for  evermore. 
And  **  Holy,  Holy,  Holy,"  cry 
The  choirs  that  crowd  thy  courts  on  high. 
Resounding  everlastingly 

Jerusalem,  my  Home 


THE    [lEAVENLY    STATE.  233 

Jerusalem,  my  home, 

Where  saints  in  glory  reign, 
Thy  haven  safe,  O  when  shall  I, 

Poor  storm-tossed  pilgrim,  gain  ? 

At  distance  dark  and  dreary, 

With  sin  and  sorrow  weary, 
For  thee  I  toil,  for  thee  I  pray, 

For  thee  I  long  alway. 
And  lo  !  mine  eyes  shall  see  thee,  too  : 
U  rend  in  twain,  thou  veil  of  blue, 
And  let  the  Golden  City  through — 

Jerusalem,  my  Home  ! 


WHERE   IS  THE  LAND  HE  SAW? 


L.  Ford. 


"  The  Land  that  is  afar  off." 

WHERE  is  the  Land  h^  saw  in  glorious  vision,- 
The  lone  old  Prophet  in  the  Sea-girt  Isle, — 
True  antitype  of  all  the  dreams  Elysian, 

Fashioned  by  Hope  earth's  sorrows  to  beguile? 

Call  them  not  idle,  all  the  tales  they  fabled 
Of  Happy  Isles  in  far  Hesperian  Seas, 

Whose  straining  sight  no  torch  of  Truth  enabled 
To  pierce  by  faith  the  unseen  Mysteries. 

Call  it  not  vain,  the  rude  untutored  longing 
For  higher  life  each  meanest  mind  that  moves. 

That  murmurs  still,  when  base  affection  wronging 
Our  nobler  part  too  oft  victorious  proves. 


234  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Where  is  that  Land?  above,  beneath,  around  us? 

Lost  in  all  space,  or  to  a  star  confined? 
O  for  one  hour  to  pass  the  shores  that  bound  us, 

And  fathom  all  the  future  of  the  mind ! 

Ye  who  have  left  our  side  to  join  the  chorus 
Of  holy  Minstrels  in  that  distant  clime, 

Waft  some  faint  echoes  of  your  harpstrings  o'er  us, 
To  chase  the  mystery  from  your  homes  subHme. 

They  send  no  sound !     Sweet  Patience  singeth  only, 
"  Strive  to  the  end,  and  struggle  to  the  goal ! " 

Then,  for  earth's  hours  of  anguish,  dark  and  lonely, 
Bright  dawns  eternal  sunshine  on  the  Soul. 

Then  they  who  mourn  for  earth's  frail  joys  departed, 
Oblivion  sweet  of  all  their  woes  shall  gain  ; 

The  heavy-laden  and  the  broken-hearted, 

Balm  for  their  wounds,  and  solace  from  their  pain. 

O  Mourner,  weeping  long  thy  loved  ones  taken. 
They  tread  the  shining  paths  by  Angels  trod ! 

O  thou  by  trusted  hearts  in  need  forsaken, 
Love  shall  not  fail  thee  in  the  Land  of  GOD ! 

There,  Soul  with  Soul  in  converse  sweet  confiding, 
Nor  shy  mistrust,  nor  selfish  aim  shall  know  ; 

Pure  as  the  crystal  Stream  beside  them  gliding. 
All  wish,  all  thought,  in  unison  shall  flow. 

Brave  heart,  hold  on  !  in  dauntless  strength  of  duty 
Work  out  thy  lot,  nor  murmur  at  thy  star ! 

So  shall  thou  soon,  in  glory  and  in  beauty, 
Behold  the  King  in  that  bright  Land  afar. 


THE   HEAVENLY   STATE.  235 


LIGHT'S  ABODE,  CELESTIAL  SALEM 

LIGHT'S  abode,  Celestial  Salem, 
Vision  whence  true  peace  doth  spring, 
Brighter  than  the  heart  can  fancy, 
Mansion  of  the  Highest  King  ; 
O  how  glorious  are  the  praises 

Which  of  Thee  the  prophets  sing  ! 

There  for  ever  and  for  ever 

Alleluia  is  out-poured  ; 
For  unending,  for  unbroken 

Is  the  feast-day  of  the  Lord  ; 
All  is  pure,  and  all  is  holy 

That  within  Thy  walls  is  stored. 

There  no  cloud  nor  passing  vapor 

Dims  the  brightness  of  the  air  ; 
Endless  noon-day,  glorious  noon-day, 

From  the  Sun  of  suns  is  there  ; 
There  no  night  brings  rest  from  labor, 

For  unknown  are  toil  and  care. 

O  how  glorious  and  resplendent, 

Fragile  body,  shalt  thou  be. 
When  endued  with  so  much  beauty. 

Full  of  health,  and  strong  and  free, 
Full  of  vigor,  full  of  pleasure 

That  shall  last  eternally ! 


236  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Now  with  gladness,  now  with  courage 
Bear  the  burden  on  thee  laid, 

That  hereafter  these  thy  labors 
May  with  endless  gifts  be  paid, 

And  in  everlasting  glory 

Thou  with  brightness  be  arrayed. 


WHEN  I  THINK  WHAT  SHALL  BEFALL. 


This  is  a  part  of  a  poem  called  A  Meditation  of  a  Faithful  Soul,  ascribed  to  the 
Franciscan  Peter  Gonella,  of  Tortona.     The  translation  is  by  F.  C.  Husenbeth. 


WHEN  I  think  what  shall  befall 
After  death  the  Virtuous  all, 
And  how  firm  will  stand  the  Just, 
Greatly  I  rejoice  and  trust. 

For  the  Day  is  near  when  those 
Just  and  Good  shall  find  repose, 
When  their  persecutors  cease 
And  the  Patient  reign  in  peace. 

O  that  Day  of  Life  and  Light, 
Day  of  unheard  Glory  bright, 
When  grim  Death  itself  shall  die. 
And  the  dismal  night  shall  fly. 

Lo  !  the  great,  long  wished  for  King 
Now  Salvation  hastes  to  bring, 
Now  will  at  the  just  One's  prayer 
Heavenly  Bliss  for  him  prepare. 


THE   HEAVENLY    STATE.  237 

Heavenly  King,  He  hastens  now  ; 
At  His  Coming  all  must  bow, 
Judge  and  Witness,  great  and  free, 
He  Whom  every  eye  shall  see. 

He  will  come  and  not  delay, 

And  His  Glory  will  display, 

To  reward  the  suffering  Just, 

Who  in  Him  have  placed  their  trust. 

O  how  happy !  O  how  sweet ! 
When  those  Souls  shall  jESUS  meet. 
Whom  in  life  they  truly  loved, 
And  His  faithful  Servants  proved. 

Then  with  gracious  Look  and  Word, 
Speaking,  jESUS  shall  be  heard  ; 
Thus  His  Love  shall  utterance  find 
In  the  sight  of  all  mankind — 

You  who  have  your  Faith  maintained, 
And  with  Me  have  firm  remained, 
You  who  bore  for  Me  and  fought, 
See  the  good  you  long  have  sought. 

See  the  Kingdom  promised  you, 
Though  concealed  till  now  from  view, 
Behold,  possess,  and  reign  secure, 
Ever  shall  your  Joy  endure. 

Then  the  Just  shall  in  amaze 
Speak  with  holy  joy  and  praise, 
And  reply  exultingly, 
Praising  what  they  wondering  see — 


238  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

To  our  God  be  thanks  and  praise ! 
What  we  hoped  for  all  our  days, 
Now  we  see  and  now  possess ; 
Christ  our  Lord  we  praise  and  bless 

O  how  sweet,  how  blest  our  fate, 
Throughout  life  the  world  to  hate ; 
Sad  and  bitter  would  it  prove 
If  the  world  had  gained  our  love. 

Happy  those  who  mourned  and  wept, 
And  their  Souls  in  patience  kept, 
Those  to  whom  the  world  gave  pain 
Now  in  endless  Bliss  shall  reign. 

There  shall  dwell  no  grief,  nor  fear ; 
None  shall  ever  shed  a  tear ; 
Nor  shall  want ;  nor  age,  nor  care, 
Nor  defect  be  ever  there. 

There  shall  reign  eternal  Peace, 
Holy  Joy  shall  never  cease. 
There  shall  be  the  flower  of  youth, 
There  Salvation's  crown  and  truth. 

None  the  Rapture  can  conceive, 
Nor  the  perfect  Joy  believe. 
In  Heaven's  Glory  to  remain, 
And  with  Angels  ever  reign. 


THE    HEAVENLY   STATE.  239 

To  that  Realm  Thy  Children  call, 
O  Thou  righteous  Judge  of  all  ; 
Thee  we  seek,  on  Thee  rely, 
Thee  implore  with  frequent  cry. 


IN  THE  FOUNT  OF  LIFE  PERENNIAL. 


From  Peter  Damiani,  and  translated  by  Mrs.  Charles,  the  author  of  the  SchOn- 
berg-Cotta  Family. 


IN  the  Fount  of  life  perennial  the  parch'd  heart  its 
thirst  would  slake, 
And    the    soul,  in  flesh  imprison'd,  longs    her   prison 

walls  to  break — 
Exile,  seeking,  sighing,  yearning,  in  her  fatherland  to 
wake. 

When  with  cares  oppress'd  and  sorrows,  only  groans 

her  grief  can  tell, 
Then  she  contemplates  the  glory  which  she  lost  when 

first  she  fell ; 
Present  evil  but  the  memory  of  the  vanish'd  good  can 

swell. 

Who  can  utter  what  the  pleasures  and  the  peace  un- 
broken are. 

Where  arise  the  pearly  mansions,  shedding  silvery 
light  afar. 

Festive  seats  and  golden  roofs,  which  glitter  like  the 
evening  star  I 


240  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Wholly  of  fair  stones  most  precious  are  those  radiant 
structures  made, 

With  pure  gold,  like  glass  transparent,  are  those  shin- 
ing streets  inlaid, 

Nothing  that  defiles  can  enter,  nothing  that  can  soil 
or  fade. 

Stormy   winter,  burning   summer,  rage  within    those 

.  regions  never, 
But  perpetual  bloom  of  roses  and  unfading  spring  for 

ever  ; 
Lilies    gleam,  the    crocus  glows,  and  dropping  balms 

their  scents  deliver. 

Honey  pure,  and  greenest  pastures,  this  the  land  of 

promise  is. 
Liquid   odors   soft    distilling,  perfumes  breathing    on 

the  breeze ; 
Fruits  immortal  cluster  always  on  the  leafy  fadeless 

trees. 

There  no  moon  sounds  chill  and  changing,  there  no 

stars  with  twinkling  ray. 
For  the  Lamb  of  that  blest  city  is  at  once  the  Sun 

and  Day ; 
Night  and  time  are  known  no  longer,  day  shall  never 

fade  away. 

There  the  saints  like  suns  are  radiant,  like  the  sun  at 

dawn  they  glow ; 
Crowned  victors  after  conflict,  all  their  joys  together 

flow, 
And  secure  they  count  the  battles  where  they  fought 

the  prostrate  foe. 


THE    HEAVENLY   STATE.  24I 

Every  stain  of  flesh  is  cleansed,  every  strife  is  left  be- 
hind, 

Spiritual  are  their  bodies,  perfect  unity  of  mind ; 

Dwelling  in  deep  peace  for  ever,  no  offence  or  grief 
they  find. 

Putting  off  their  mortal  vesture,  in  their  Source  their 

souls  they  steep — 
Truth  by  actual  vision  learning,  on  its  form  their  gaze 

they  keep — 
Drinking  from  the  living  Fountain  draughts  of  living 

waters  deep. 

Time,  with  all' its  alternations,  enters  not  those  hosts 

among; 
Glorious,  wakeful,  blest,  no  shade  of  chance  or  change 

o'er  them  is  flung  ; 
Sickness  cannot  touch  the  deathless,  nor  old  age  the 

ever  young. 

There   their  being  is  eternal,  things  that  cease  have 

ceased  to  be ; 
All  corruption  there  has  perish'd,  there  they  flourish 

strong  and  free: 
Thus  mortality  is  swallow'd  up  of  life  eternally. 

Naught  from  them  is  hidden,  knowing  Him  to  whom 

all  things  are  known. 
All  the  spirit's  deep   recesses,  sinless,  to  each  other 

shown — 
Unity  of  will  and  purpose,  heart   and  mind  for  ever 

one. 

16 


242  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

Diverse  as  their  varied  labors  the  rewards  to  each  that 

fall, 
But  Love,  what  she  loves  in  others  evermore  her  own 

doth  call; 
Thus  the  several  joy  of  each  becomes  the  common  joy 

of  all. 

Where  the  body  is,  there  ever  are  the  eagles  gathered, 
For  the  saints  and  for  the  angels  one  most  blessed  feast 

is  spread — 
Citizens  of  either  country  living  on  the  self-same  bread. 

Ever  fiird,  and  ever  seeking,  what  they  have  they  still 

desire ; 
Hunger  there  shall  fret  them  never,  iior  satiety  shall 

tire — 
Still   enjoying  whilst  aspiring,  in  their  joy  they  still 

aspire. 

There  the  new  song,  new  for  ever,  those  melodious 

voices  sing. 
Ceaseless  streams  of  fullest  music  through  those  blessed 

regions  ring ; 
Crowned  victors  ever  bringi  ng  praises  worthy  of  the 

King! 

Blessed  who  the  King  of  heaven  in  His  beauty  thus 

behold, 
And  beneath  His  throne  rejoicing  see  the  universe  un-' 

fold- 
Sun  and  moon,  and  stars  and  planets,  radiant  in  His 

light  unroU'd ! 


THE   HEAVENLY   STATE.  243 

Christ,  the  Palm  of  faithful  victors  !  of  that  city  make 

me  free  ; 
When  my  warfare  shall  be  ended,  to  its  mansions  lead 

Thou  me, — 
Grant  me,  with  its  happy  inmates,  sharer  of  Thy  gifts 

to  be  ! 

Let  Thy  soldier,  yet  contending,   still  be  with  Thy 

strength  supplied  ; 
Thou  wilt  not  deny  the  quiet  when  the  arms  are  laid 

aside  ; 
Make  me  meet  with  Thee  for  ever  in  that  country  to 

abide. 

—^ 

MY  THIRSTY  SOUL'S  DESIRE. 


Another  translation  of  the  foregoing  hymn  of  Petkr  Damiani— in  the  time  of 
Queen  Elizabeth. 


MY  thirsty  soul  desires  her  drought 
At  heauenly  fountaines  to  refresh ; 
My  prysoned  minde  would  fayne  be  out 
Of  chaynes  and  fetters  of  the  flesh. 

She  looketh  vp  vnto  the  state, 

From  whence  she  downe  by  sin  did  slide 
She  mournes  the  more  the  good  she  lost. 

For  present  ill  she  doth  abide. 

She  longs  from  rough  and  dangerous  seas. 
To  harbour  in  the  hauen  of  bHsse ; 

Where  safe  she  anchors  at  her  ease. 
And  store  of  sweet  contentment  is. 


244  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

From  banishment  she  more  and  more 
Desires  to  see  her  countrey  deare  ; 

She  sits  and  sends  her  sighes  before, 
Her  ioyes  and  treasures  all  be  there. 

From  Babilon  she  would  returne, 
Vnto  her  home  and  towne  of  peace, 

Jerusalem,  where  ioyes  abounde, 
Continue  still  and  neuer  cease. 

There  blustering  winter  neuer  blowes, 

Nor  sommer's  parching  heate  doth  harme ; 

It  neuer  freezeth  there,  nor  snowes ; 
The  weather's  euer  temperate  warme. 

The  trees  doe  blossome,  bud,  and  beare ; 

The  birds  doe  euer  chirpe  and  sing; 
The  fruit  is  mellow  all  the  yeare : 

They  haue  an  euerlasting  spring. 

The  pleasant  gardens  euer  keep 

Their  hearbes  and  flowers  fresh  and  greene ; 
All  sorts  of  dainty  plants  and  fruites 

At  all  times  there  are  to  be  seene. 

The  riuer,  wine  most  perfect  flowes, 
More  pleasant  than  the  honnycombe 

Vpon  whose  bankes  the  sugar  growes, 
Enclosed  in  reedes  of  sinamon. 

Her  walles  of  jasper  stones  be  built, 
Most  rich  and  fayre  that  euer  was  ; 

Her  streetes  and  houses  pau'd  and  gilt 

With  gold  more  cleare  then  christall  glasse. 


THE   HEAVENLY   STATE.  245 

Her  gates  in  equall  distance  be, 

And  each  a  glistering  margarite, 
Which  commers  in  farre  off  may  see — 

A  gladsome  and  a  glorious  sight. 

Her  sunne  doth  neuer  'clipse  nor  cloude ; 

Her  moone  doth  neuer  wax  nor  wane  : 
The  Lambe  with  light  hath  her  endued, 

Whose  glory  pen  cannot  explaine. 

The  glorious  saintes  her  dwellers  be, 
In  numbers  more  than  men  can  thinke  ; 

So  many  in  a  company, 

As  loue  in  likenes  doth  them  linke. 

The  starres  in  brightnes  they  surpasse  ; 

In  swiftnes,  arrowes  from  a  bowe  ; 
In  strength,  in  firmnes,  Steele  or  brasse  ; 

In  brightnes,  fire ;  in  whitenes,  snow. 

Theyr  cloathing  are  more  softe  then  silke, 

With  girdles  gilt  of  beaten  golde  ; 
They  in  their  hands,  as  white  as  milke. 

Of  palme  triumphant  branches  holde. 

Theyr  faces,  shining  like  the  sunne, 

Shoot  forth  their  glorious  gladsome  beames: 

The  field  is  fought ;  the  battle  won  ; 
Their  heads  be  crowned  with  diademes. 

Reward  as  vertue  different  is ; 

Distinct  their  ioyes  and  happines ; 
But  each  in  ioy  of  other's  blisse, 

Doth  as  his  owne  the  same  possesse. 


246  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

So  each  in  glory  doe  abound, 
And  all  their  glories  doe  excell : 

But  where  as  all  to  each  redound, 
Who  can  th'  exceeding  glory  tell  ? 

Triumphant  warriers  you  may  heare, 

Recount  their  daungers  which  doe  cease  ; 

And  noble  citizens  euerywhere, 

Their  happy  gaines  of  ioy  and  peace. 

The  King  that  heauenly  pallace  rules, 

Doth  beare  vpon  his  golden  shield 
A  crosse  in  signe  of  tryumph,  gules, 
Erected  in  a  uerdant  field. 

His  glory  such  as  doth  behoue 
Him  in  his  manhood  for  to  take, 

Whose  Godhead  earth  and  heauen  aboue. 
And  all  that  dwell  therein,  did  make. 

Like  friends,  all  partners  are  in  blisse, 

With  Christ  their  Lord  and  Master  deare, 

Like  spouses  they  the  bridegroome  kisse  ; 
Who  feasteth  them  with  heauenly  cheare  ; 

With  tree  of  life,  and  manna  sweete, 

Which  taste  doth  such  a  pleasure  bring. 

As  none  to  iudge  thereof  be  meete, 

But  they  which  banquet  with  the  King. 

With  cherubins  their  wings  they  mooue, 
And  mount  in  contemplation  hye  ; 

With  seraphins  they  burne  in  loue, 
The  beamcs  of  glory  be  so  nygh. 


THE   HEAVENLY    STATE.  247 

O  sweet  aspect  ;  vision  of  peace  ; 

Happy  regard  and  heauenly  sight ; 
O  endless  ioy  without  surcease  ; 

Perpetuall  day  which  hath  no  night  ! 

O  well  of  weale ;  fountaine  of  life  ; 

A  spring  of  euerlasting  blisse  ; 
Eternal  sunne  ;  resplendant  light ; 

And  eminent  cause  of  all  that  is  ! 

Riuer  of  pleasure  ;  sea  of  delight ; 

Garden  of  glory  euer  greene  ; 
O  glorious  glasse,  and  mirrour  bright, 

Wherein  all  truth  is  clearly  seene  ! 

O  princely  pallace,  royall  court ; 

Monarchall  seate  ;  emperiall  throne  ! 
Where  King  of  kings,  and  Soueraigne  Lord, 

For  euer  ruleth  all  alone  : 

Where  all  the  glorious  saints  doe  see 

The  secrets  of  the  Deity ; 
The  Godhead  one,  in  persons  three, 

The  super-blessed  Trinity. 

The  depth  of  wisdome  most  profound, 

All  puisant  high  sublimity  ; 
The  breadth  of  loue  without  all  bound, 

In  endlesse  long  eternity. 

The  heauy  earth  belowe  by  kinde 

Alone  ascends  the  mounting  fire : 
Be  this  the  centor  of  my  minde, 

And  lofty  spheare  of  her  desire. 


24H  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

The  chafed  deare  doth  take  the  foyle  ; 

The  tyred  hare  the  thickes  and  wood  : 
Be  this  the  comfort  of  my  toyle, 

My  refuge,  hope,  and  soueraigne  good. 

The  merchant  cuts  the  seas  for  gaine  ; 

The  soldier  serueth  for  renowne  ; 
The  tyllman  plowes  the  ground  for  graine  ; 

Be  this  my  ioy  and  lasting  crowne. 

The  faulkner  seekes  to  see  a  flight : 
The  hunter  beates  to  view  the  game  : 

Long  thou,  my  soule,  to  see  this  sight. 
And  labour  to  enjoy  the  same. 

No  one's  without  some  one  delight, 
Which  he  endeauours  to  attaine  : 

Seeke  thou,  my  soule,  both  day  and  night. 
This  one,  which  euer  shall  remaine. 

This  one  containes  all  pleasures  true — 
All  other  pleasures  be  but  vaine  : 

Bid  thou  the  rest,  my  soule,  adue. 
And  seeke  this  one  alone  to  gaine. 

Go  count  the  grass  vpon  the  ground, 
Or  sandes  that  lye  vpon  the  shore  ; 

And  when  yee  haue  the  number  found, 
The  ioyes  hereof  be  many  more. 

More  thousand,  thousand  yeares  they  last, 
And  lodge  within  the  happy  mynde  ; 

And  when  so  many  yeares  be  past. 
Yet  more  and  more  be  still  behinde. 


THE   HEAVENLY   STATE.  249 

Farre  more  they  be  than  we  can  weene  ; 

They  doe  our  iudgment  much  excell : 
No  ear  hath  heard,  or  eye  hath  scene  : 

No  pen  can  write,  no  tongue  can  tell. 

An  angel's  tongue  cannot  recyte 

The  endless  ioy  of  heauenly  blisse; 
Which,  being  wholly  infinite. 

Beyond  all  speech  and  writing  is. 

We  can  imagine  but  a  shade ; 

It  neuer  entred  into  thought, 
What  ioys  he  hath  enioyed,  that  made 

All  ioys,  and  them  that  ioy,  of  nought. 

My  soule  cannot  these  ioys  contayne ; 

Let  her.  Lord,  enter  into  them, 
For  euer  with  thee  to  remayne. 

Within  thy  towne,  lerusalem  ! 


WILL  IT  NO  PLEASURE  BE? 


From  the  German. 


WILL  it  no  pleasure  be, 
When  faith  shall  end  in  knowing, 
Hope  to  fruition  growing, 

The  Saviour's  face  to  see  ? 
To  learn  from  Him  the  story. 
What  victories  won  our  glory — 
Will  this  no  pleasure  be? 


250  HEAVEN   IN    SONG. 

Will  it  no  pleasure  be, 
When  friends  who  went  before  us 
Our  God  shall  there  restore  us, 

From  pain  and  sickness  free? 
Where  sorrows  show  no  traces, 
To  meet  their  glad  embraces, 

Will  this  no  pleasure  be? 

Will  it  no  pleasure  be. 
Where  th'  angel-chorus  raises 
To  God  most  high  their  praises, 

With  seraphs  to  agree  ? 
And  when  the  skies  are  ringing, 
To  join  "  Thrice  holy  !  "  singing, 

Will  this  no  pleasure  be? 

Oh  yes,  there's  pleasure  there ! 
Away,  earth's  glittering  bubbles, 
Your  joys  are  full  of  troubles. 

Your  bliss  not  worth  the  care. 
Then,  friends,  do  not  bewail  me. 
When  heart  and  flesh  shall  fail  me. 

But  think,  there's  pleasure  there  ! 


THE   HEAVENLY   STATE.  2$ I 


NOW  THE  PILGRIM,  SAD  AND  WEARY. 


From  the  German  of  A.  Knapp. 


NOW  the  pilgrim,  sad  and  weary, 
Finds  here  a  desert  wild  and  dreary, 
With  shades  of  death  and  darkness  filled : 
Soon,  with  groves  of  palm  surrounded, 
The  peaceful  city  shall  be  founded, 
Which  for  his  glory  Christ  shall  build. 
In  splendid  colors  dressed. 
On  sapphires  it  shall  rest ; 
Doors  and  windows 
Of  crystal  rare,  and  turrets  fair 
Of  richest  gems,  shall  glitter  there. 


There,  amid  this  palace  royal, 

A  countless  host,  well  tried  and  loyal, 

Shall  see  the  glory  of  their  Lord  ; 
All  their  fears  and  sorrows  ended, 
Shall  they,  with  peace  and  joy  attended, 
Receive  from  him  their  rich  reward. 
The  crown  of  righteousness 
Shall  there  his  people  bless ; 
No  destroyer 
Shall  thither  steal  to  work  their  ill, 
But  Christ  will  there  His  grace  fulfil. 


252  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

When  'twill  be — seek  not  to  know  it , 
Who  guides  in  His  own  time  will  show  it. 

And  His  own  time  is  always  best. 
Heralds  He  abroad  is  sending, 
That  they,  to  all  His  grace  commending, 
May  bring  them  all  to  seek  His  rest. 
Enough  for  us  to  know 
What  He  would  have  us  do 
Till  the  harvest ; 
The  world's  wide  field  its  fruits  must  yield, 
The  ransom  was  for  all  revealed. 


Tell  it  now  with  joyful  praises, — 

**  The  Prince  of  Life  His  palace  raises  ! '' 

O'er  land  and  sea  the  tidings  sound  ; 
Not  in  vain  His  invitation ; 
The  messengers  of  His  salvation 
Proclaim  it  to  the  poor  around. 
Beneath  the  burning  sky 
They  to  their  work  apply, 
Daily  sowing. 
His  word  He'll  keep ;  though  now  they  weep, 
With  joy  shall  they  the  harvest  reap. 


Seeing  growth  they  are  requited  ; 
With  tears  of  joy,  with  souls  delighted, 

First-fruits  they  now  are  bringing  on ; 
Where  the  ground  to  drought  was  given, 
Head,  hands,  and  hearts,  they  lift  to  heaven, 

Admiring  what  the  Lord  has  done. 


THE    HEAVENLY    STATE.  253 

All  fresh  with  morning  dew, 

Green  fields  spring  up  to  view, 
Breathing  fragrance  ; 
For  bitter  sighs  glad  songs  arise, 
While  hope  anticipates  the  prize. 


But  the  Lord,  by  varied  trial. 
Oft  proves  His  herald's  self-denial. 

And  makes  them  wait,  and  toil,  and  mourn  ; 
Oft  will  let  fierce  storms  o'ertake  them, 
To  hunger,  thirst,  and  want  forsake  them, 
To  gloom  their  fairest  prospects  turn. 
In  His-  own  chosen  way 
His  wisdom  He'll  display, 
Clearly  teaching, 
While  deepest  night  brings  on  the  light, 
That  what  He  does  is  always  right. 


Knowing  this,  shall  fears  beguile  us  ? 
Though  traitors,  leagued  with  foes,  revile  us. 

Our  onward  course  let  us  pursue ; 
They  that  shame  for  Jesus  bearing, 
Will  persevere.  His  way  preparing. 
Shall  safely  reach  his  glory  too, 
There,  with  the  Son  of  God, 
To  join  in  blest  abode 
All  the  pious. 
And  freely  own,  through  grace  alone. 
Their  works  of  love  and  faith  were  done. 


254  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Ever  shall  thy  praise  be  glorious, 
When,  over  all  their  ills  victorious, 
Thy  saints  unite  in  tuneful  strife. 
They,  from  death  by  Thee  delivered, 
Shall  from  Thy  love  no  more  be  severed  ; 
Such  is  Thy  will,  Thou  Prince  of  Life  ! 
The  world,  Lord,  rests  on  Thee, — ■ 
Thy  world  with  pity  see  ! 
Showing  mercy 
To  him  whose  days  are  prayer  and  praise, 
To  him  who  yet  in  error  strays. 


THE  EVENING  WATCH. 


Henry  Vaughan. 


BODY. 

FAREWELL !     I  goe  to  sleep  ;  but  when 
The  day-star  springs,  I'll  wake  again. 

SOUL. 
Goe,  sleep  in  peace ;  and  when  thou  lyest 
Unnumbered  in  thy  dust,  when  all  this  frame 
Is  but  one  dramme,  and  what  thou  now  descriest 

In  sev'rall  parts  shall  want  a  name, 
Then  may  His  peace  be  with  thee,  and  each  dust 
Writ  in  His  book,  who  ne'er  betrayed  man's  trust ! 

BODY. 
Amen  !  but  hark,  ere  we  two  stray, — 
How  many  hours,  dost  think,  'till  day? 


THE   HEAVENLY   STATE.  255 

SOUL. 
Ah,  go  ;  thou'rt  weak,  and  sleepie.     Heaven 
Is  a  plain  watch,  and  without  figures  winds 
All  ages  up  ;  who  drew  this  circle,  even 

He  fills  it ;  dayes  and  hours  are  blinds. 
Yet  this  take  with  thee :  the  last  gasp  of  time 
Is  thy  first  breath,  and  man's  eternal  prime. 


BATHED  IN  UNFALLEN  SUNLIGHT. 


HORATIUS    BONAR, 


BATHED  in  unfallen  sunlight. 
Itself  a  sun-born  gem, 
Fair  gleams  the  glorious  city, 
The  new  Jerusalem  ! 
City  fairest, 
Splendor  rarest, 

Let  me  gaze  on  thee ! 

Calm  in  her  queenly  glory, 

She  sits,  all  joy  and  light ; 
Pure  in  her  bridal  beauty, 
Her  raiment  festal-white  ! 
Home  of  gladness, 
Free  from  sadness, 
Let  me  dwell  in  thee  ! 

Shading  her  golden  pavement 

The  tree  of  life  is  seen, 
Its  fruit-rich  branches  waving, 

Celestial  evergreen. 


256  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Tree  of  wonder, 
Let  me  under 
Thee  forever  rest ! 

Fresh  from  the  throne  of  Godhead, 

Bright  in  its  crystal  gleam, 
Bursts  out  the  living  fountain, 
Swells  on  the  living  stream. 
Blessed  river, 
Let  me  ever 

Feast  my  eye  on  thee  ! 

Streams  of  true  life  and  gladness. 
Spring  of  all  health  and  peace  ; 
No  harps  by  thee  hang  silent, 
Nor  happy  voices  cease. 
Tranquil  river, 
Let  me  ever 

Sit  and  sing  by  thee ! 

River  of  God,  I  greet  thee, 
Not  now  afar,  but  near; 
My  soul  to  thy  still  waters 
Hastes  in  its  thirstings  here. 
Holy  river. 
Let  me  ever 
Drink  of  only  thee  ! 


THE  HEAVENLY   STATE.  257 


I  KNOW  THE  WALLS  ARE  JASPER. 


Helen  L.  Parmlee. 


I   KNOW  the  walls  are  jasper, 
The  palaces  are  fair, 
And  to  the  sounds  of  harpings 
The  saints  are  singing  there  ; 
I  know  that  living  waters 

Flow  under  fruitful  trees : 
But  oh,  to  make  my  heaven, 
It  needeth  more  than  these ! 

O,  Heaven  without  my  Saviour 

Would  be  no  heaven  to  me ; 
Dim  were  the  walls  of  jasper — 

Rayless  the  crystal  sea. 
He  gilds  earth's  darkest  valleys 

With  light,  and  joy,  and  peace : 
What  then  must  be  the  radiance 

When  Night  and  Death  shall  cease? 

Speed  on,  O  lagging  moments ! 

Come,  birthday  of  the  soul ! 
How  long  the  night  appeareth. 

The  hours,  how  slow  they  roll ! 
How  sweet  the  welcome  summons 

That  greets  the  willing  bride! 
And  when  mine  eyes  behold  Him, 

*'  I  shall  be  satisfied." 
17 


258  HEAVEN   IN   SONG 


NEVERMORE  AND  EVERMORE. 


From  the  Dublin  University  Magazine. 


TWO  worlds  there  are.     To  one  our  eyes  we  strain, 
Whose  magic  joys  we  shall  not  see  again  ; 
Bright  haze  of  morning  veils  its  glimmering  shore, 
Ah  !  truly  breathed  we  there 
Intoxicating  air ; — 
Glad  were  our  hearts  in  that  sweet  realm  of  Never- 


more 


The  lover,  there,  drank  her  delicious  breath, 
Whose  love  has  yielded  since,  to  change  or  death  ; 
The  mother  kissed  her  child,  whose  days  are  o'er. 

Alas  !  too  soon  have  fled 

The  ne'er  returning  dead  ; 
We  see  them — visions  strange — amid  the  Nevermore. 

The  merry  songs  some  maidens  used  to  sing, 

The  brown,  brown  hair,  that  once  was  wont  to  cling 

To  temples  long  clay-cold — to  the  very  core 

They  strike  our  weary  hearts  ! 

As  some  vexed  memory  starts 
From  that  long-faded  land,  the  realm  of  Nevermore! 

It  is  perpetual  summer  there — but  here 

Sadly  do  we  remember  rivers  clear, 

And  hare-bells  quivering  on  the  meadow  floor; 
For  brighter  bells  and  bluer, 
For  tender  hearts  and  truer, 

People  that  happy  land — the  land  of  Nevermore  ! 


THE    HEAVENLY   STATE.  259 

Upon  the  frontier  of  this  shadowy  land 
We,  pilgrims  of  eternal  sorrow,  stand  ; — 
What  realm  lies  forward,  with  its  happier  store 

Of  forests  green  and  deep, 

Of  valleys  hushed  in  sleep, 
And  lakes  most  peaceful  ?     'Tis  the  land  of  Evermore ! 

Very  far  off  its  marbled  cities  seem ; 
Very  far  off — beyond  our  sensual  dream, 
Its  woods  unruffled  by  the  wild  wind's  roar. 

Yet  does  the  turbulent  surge 

Howl  on  its  very  verge — 
One  moment,  and  we  breathe  within  the  Evermore  ! 

They  whom  we  loved  and  lost  so  long  ago, 
Dwell  in  those  cities,  far  from  mortal  woe, 
^aunt  those  fresh  woodlands,  whence  sweet  whispers 

Eternal  peace  have  they  ;   -  [soar. 

God  wipes  their  tears  away  ; 
They  drink  that  Fount  of  Hfe  which  flows  for  Evermore  ! 

Thither  we  hasten,  through  these  rivers  dim  ; 
But  lo  !  the  white  wings  of  the  Seraphim 
Shine  in  the  sunset  on  that  joyous  shore ! 

There,  our  light  hearts  shall  know 

The  life  of  long  ago  ! — 
The  sorrow-burdened  past  shall  fade  for  Evermore ! 


26o  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


WHEN  WE  REACH  A  QUIET  DWELLING. 


From  the  Changed  Cross. 


"  All  the  way  by  which  the  Lord  thy  God  led  thee." 

WHEN  we  reach  a  quiet  dwelling 
On  the  strong  eternal  hills, 
And  our  praise  to  Him  is  swelling, 

Who  the  vast  creation  fills  : 
When  the  paths  of  prayer  and  duty 

And  affliction  all  are  trod, 
And  we  wake  and  see  the  beauty 
Of  our  Saviour  and  our  God  : 

With  the  light  of  resurrection, 

When  our  changed  bodies  glow, 
And  we  gain  the  full  perfection 

Of  the  bliss  begun  below ; 
When  the  life  that  flesh  obscureth 

In  each  radiant  form  shall  shine, 
And  the  joy  that  aye  endureth 

Flashes  forth  in  beams  divine : 

While  we  wave  the  palms  of  glory 
Through  the  long  eternal  years, 

Shall  we  e'er  forget  the  story 
Of  our  mortal  griefs  and  fears  ? 


THE   HEAVENLY   STATE.  261 

Shall  we  e'er  forget  the  sadness 
And  the  clouds  that  hung  so  dim, 

When  our  hearts  are  filled  with  gladness 
And  our  tears  are  dried  by  Him ! 

Shall  the  memory  be  banished 

Of  His  kindness  and  His  care, 
When  the  wants  and  woes  are  vanished, 

Which  He  loved  to  soothe  and  share — 
All  the  way  by  which  He  brought  us, 

All  the  grievings  which  He  bore, 
All  the  patient  love  He  taught  us, 

Shall  we  think  of  them  no  more  ? 

Yes !  we  surely  shall  remember 

How  He  quickened  us  from  death : 
How  He  fanned  the  dying  ember 

With  His  Spirit's  glowing  breath 
We  shall  read  the  tender  meaning 

Of  the  sorrows  and  alarms 
As  we  trod  the  desert,  leaning 

On  His  everlasting  arms. 

And  His  rest  will  be  the  dearer 

When  we  think  of  weary  ways, 
And  His  light  will  seem  the  clearer 

As  we  muse  on  cloudy  days. 
Oh  !  'twill  be  a  glorious  morrow 

To  a  dark  and  stormy  day ; 
We  shall  recollect  our  sorrow 

As  the  streams  that  pass  away. 


262  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


BRIGHT     SUN,   THOU    DOST    BLESSEDLY 
SHINE. 


Thomas  H.  Gill. 


'  The  city  hath  no  need  of  the  sun  neither  of  the  moon  to  shine  in  it :  for  the  glory 
of  God  did  lighten  it." 

BRIGHT  sun  !  thou  dost  blessedly  shine  ; 
Fair  earth  doth  rejoice  in  thy  light  ; 
She  draweth  her  beauty  from  thine  : 

Thou  makest  her  gladsome  and  bright. 
We  bless  thy  strong  splendor  at  noon, 

We  bless  thy  sweet  radiance  at  even, 
And  welcome  the  soft-shining  moon 

When  earth  to  her  bright  sway  is  given. 

But  fairer,  but  fuller  the  light 

Through  the  Heavenly  City  that  streams  • 
Jerusalem  shineth  all  bright 

But  not  with  the  sun's  golden  beams  : 
Your  smile,  sun  and  moon,  she  can  spare  ; 

Ye  bear  in  her  glory  no  part  : 
Thou  only,  dear  Lord,  beamest  there 

Her  glory,  her  sunshine  Thou  art. 

Her  smile  from  Thy  beams  she  doth  take 
Her  light  in  Thy  light  she  doth  see ; 

Her  music  and  mirth  Thou  dost  make  ; 
Her  beauty  she  borrows  from  Thee. 


THE   HEAVENLY   STATE.  263 

All  bathed  in  the  Glory  Divine 

Still,  still  she  abides  in  Thy  light ; 
Her  Sun  never  ceaseth  to  shine, 

Her  day  never  yieldeth  to  night. 

Here  bright  are  the  beams  of  Thy  sun  : 

Here  sweet  are  the  rays  of  Thy  grace  : 
But  there  both  the  glories  are  one. 

Are  one  in  the  Light  of  Thy  face. 
The  Sun  in  their  souls  that  did  glow 

Now  bright  on  Thy  saints  doth  arise  ; 
The  joy  of  their  hearts  here  below 

Becomes  the  delight  of  their  eyes. 

They  look  on  the  Lord  of  their  love, 

The  Lamb  that  was  slain  they  behold  ; 
He  maketh  the  glory  above  ; 

He  lighteth  the  city  of  gold. 
They  gaze  on  their  Sun  and  grow  bright ; 

His  beauty,  His  splendor  they  wear  ; 
They  see  the  ineffable  sight : 

The  unspeakable  glory  they  share. 

Lord  !  here  in  my  heart  dost  Thou  shine  ? 

Art  Thou  my  soul's  sunlight  below? 
O  then  in  that  City  Divine 

Full,  full  on  mine  eyes  Thou  wilt  glow. 
For  me  as  for  all  the  glad  throng 

Thou  makest  Jerusalem  bright  ; 
And  still  the  glad  stream  of  our  song 

Flows  on  midst  the  bliss  of  Thy  light. 


264  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


THERE  IS  A  RIVER  PURE  AND  BRIGHT. 


James  Montgomery. 


"  There  is  a  river  the  streams  whereof  shall  make  g^ad  the  city  of  Go<L" 

THERE  is  a  river  pure  and  bright, 
Whose  streams  make  glad  the  heavenly  plains, 
Where,  in  eternity  of  light, 
The  city  of  our  GOD  remains. 

Built  by  the  word  of  His  command, 

With  His  unclouded  presence  blest, 
Firm  as  His  throne,  the  bulwarks  stand  ; 

There  is  our  home,  our  hope,  our  rest. 

Thither  let  fervent  faith  aspire  ; 

Our  treasure  and  our  heart  be  there: 
Oh  !  for  a  seraph's  wing  of  fire  ! 

Or  rather  mightier  wings  of  prayer, — 

We  reach  at  once  that  last  retreat, 

And,  ranged  among  the  ransom'd  throng, 

Fall  with  the  elders  at  His  feet, 

Whose  Name  alone  inspires  their  song. 

Ah  !  soon,  how  soon  !  our  spirits  droop  ; 

Unwont  the  air  of  heaven  to  breathe  ; 
Yet  God,  in  very  deed  will  stoop, 

And  dwell  Himself  with  men  beneath. 


THE    HEAVENLY   STATE.  265 


Come  to  thy  living  temples,  then, 
As  in  the  ancient  times  appear ; 

Let  earth  be  Paradise  again, 

And  man,  O  God  I  thine  image  here. 


GLORIOUS  THINGS  OF  THEE  ARE  SPOKEN, 


John  Newton. 


GLORIOUS  things  of  thee  are  spoken, 
Zion,  city  of  our  God  ; 
He,  whose  word  cannot  be  broken, 
Formed  thee  for  His  own  abode  : 

On  the  Rock  of  Ages  founded, 
What  can  shake  thy  sure  repose  ? 

With  salvation's  walls  surrounded, 
Thou  mayst  smile  at  all  thy  foes. 

See,  the  streams  of  living  waters, 

Springing  from  eternal  love. 
Well  supply  thy  sons  and  daughters, 

And  all  fear  of  want  remove  : 

Wlio  can  faint  while  such  a  river 
Ever  flows  their  thirst  to  assuage; 

Grace,  which,  like  the  Lord  the  giver, 
Never  fails  from  acre  to  aee? 

Round  each  habitation  hovering, 
See  the  cloud  and  fire  appear, 

For  a  glory  and  a  covering ; 
Showing  that  the  Lord  is  near. 


;66  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Saviour,  if  of  Zion's  city 

I,  through  grace,  a  member  am, 
Let  the  world  deride  or  pity, 

I  will  glory  in  Thy  name. 

Fading  is  the  worldling's  pleasure, 
All  his  boasted  pomp  and  show  ; 

Solid  joys  and  lasting  treasure 
None  but  Zion's  children  know. 


A    BEAUTIFUL   LAND    BY    THE    SPOILER 
UNTROD. 

^jp HERE'S  a  Beautiful  Land  by  the  Spoiler  untrod, 

JL      Unpolluted  by  sorrow  or  care  ; 
It  is  lighted  alone  by  the  presence  of  God, 

Whose  throne,  and  whose  temple  are  there. 
Its  crystalline  streams,  with  a  murmuring  flow, 

Meander  through  valleys  so  green. 
And  its  mountains  of  jasper  are  bright  in  the  glow 

Of  a  splendor  no  mortal  hath  seen. 

And  throngs  of  glad  singers  with  jubilant  breath, 

Make  the  air  with  their  melodies  rife  ; 
And  one  known  on  earth  as  the  Angel  of  Death, 

Shines  here  as  the  Angel  of  Life ! 
An  infinite  tenderness  beams  from  his  eyes ; 

On  his  brow  is  an  infinite  calm. 
And  his  voice,  as  it  thrills  through  the  depths  of  the 
skies. 

Is  as  sweet  as  the  Seraphim's  psalm. 


THE   HEAVENLY   STATE.  26/ 

Through  the  amaranth  groves  of  the  Beautiful  Land 

Walk  the  souls  who  were  faithful  in  this  ; 
And    their   foreheads,    star-crowned,    by   zephyrs    are 
fanned, 

That  evermore  murmur  of  bliss  ; 
They  taste  the  rich  fruitage  that  hangs  from  the  trees, 

And  breathe  the  sweet  odors  of  flowers 
More  fragrant  than  ever  were  kissed  by  the  breeze 

In  Araby's  lovehest  bowers. 

Old  Prophets,  whose  words  were  a  spirit  of  flame 

Blazing  out  o'er  the  darkness  of  Time  ; 
And  martyrs,  whose  courage  no  tortures  could  tame. 

Nor  turn  from  their  purpose  sublime  ; 
And  Saints  and  Confessors,  a  numberless  throng, 

Who  were  loyal  to  Truth  and  to  Right, 
And    left,   as    they  walked   through   the   darkness  of 
Wrong, 

Their  footprints  encircled  with  light. 

And  the  dear  little  children,  who  went  to  their  rest 

Ere  their  lives  had  been  sullied  by  sin. 
While  the  Angel  of  Morning  still  tarried  a  guest. 

Their  spirits'  pure  temple  within, — 
All  are  there — all  are  there — in  the  Beautiful  Land, 

The  land  by  the  Spoiler  untrod. 
And   their   foreheads,    star-crowned,    by   zephyrs   are 
fanned. 

That  blow  from  the  Gardens  of  God ! 

My  soul  hath  looked  in  through  the  gateway  of  dreams, 
On  the  city  all  paven  with  gold, 


268  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

And  though  it  still  waits  on  this  desolate  strand, 

A  Pilgrim  and  stranger  on  earth, 
Yet  it  knew  in  that  glimpse  of  the  Beautiful  Land, 

That  it  gazed  on  the  home  of  its  birth  I 


AROUND    THEM,    BRIGHT   WITH    ENDLESS 
SPRING. 


From  the  Latin  of  Augustine. 


AROUND  them,  bright  with  endless  spring  perpet- 
ual roses  bloom — 
Warm  balsams  gratefully  exude  luxurious  perfume. 
And  crocuses  and  lilies  white  shine  dazzling  in  the  sun ; 
Green  meadows  yield  their  harvests  rich,  and  streams 

with  honey  run  ; 
Unbroken  droop  the  laden  boughs  with  heavy  fruitage 

bent — 
Of  incense  and  of  odors  strange  the  air  is  redolent ; 
And   neither  sun  nor  moon   nor  stars,  disperse  their 

changeful  light, 
But  the  Lamb's  eternal  glory  makes  the  happy  city 

bright. 

♦ 

THERE  IS  A  PLACE  OF  SACRED  REST. 


Robert  Turnbull. 


THERE  is  a  place  of  sacred  rest, 
Far,  far  beyond  the  skies, 
Where  beauty  smiles  eternally. 
And  pleasure  never  dies, — 


THE   HEAVENLY   STATE.  269 

My  Father's  house,  my  heavenly  home, 

Where  "  many  mansions"  stand, 
Prepared,  by  hands  divine,  for  all 

Who  seek  the  better  land. 

When  tossed  upon  the  waves  of  life, 

With  fear  on  every  side, — 
When  fiercely  howls  the  gathering  storm, 

And  foams  the  angry  tide, — 
Beyond  the  storm,  beyond  the  gloom, 

Breaks  forth  the  light  of  morn. 
Bright  beaming  from  my  Father's  house, 

To  cheer  the  soul  forlorn. 

In  that  pure  home  of  tearless  joy 

Earth's  parted  friends  shall  meet, 
With  smiles  of  love  that  never  fade, 

And  blessedness  complete. 
There,  there,  adieus  are  sounds  unknown : 

Death  frowns  not  on  that  scene  ; 
But  life  and  glorious  beauty  shine, 

Untroubled  and  serene. 


I    KNOW    NOT    WHERE    THOSE    MANSIONS 

LIE. 


"  We  would  see  Jesus." 


I  KNOW  not  where  those  blessed  mansions  lie 
That  Christ  departed  to  prepare  on  high  ; 
Nor  where  the  new  Jerusalem  doth  stand, 
The  glorious  centre  of  a  happy  land  ; 


270  HEAVEN    IN    SONG. 

Nor  the  full  meaning  of  that  tree  of  life, 
The  fruits  unceasing,  leaves  with  blessing  rife ; 
That  crystal  stream  of  life  is  still  to  me 
A  beautiful,  a  baffling  mystery. 

Then  those  bright  spirits,  from  the  body  free, 
How  can  they  worship  there  as  now  they  be? 
And  how  with  one  another  can  the)^  speak? — 
The  answer  to  all  this  I  vainly  seek. 

These  things  I  know  not,  yet  I  rest  in  this  : 
That  Christ  is  there,  and  seeing  Him  is  bliss. 
For  ever,  Saviour,  let  me  look  on  Thee, 
And  life  shall  be  one  endless  ecstasy! 


HER   STREETS  WITH    BURNISHED   GOLD 
ARE  PAVED. 


Francis  Quarles. 


HER  streets  with  burnished  gold  are  paved  round, 
Stars  lie  like  pebbles  scattered  on  the  ground, 
Pearl  mixt  with  onyx,  and  the  jasper  stone 
Made  jewelled  causeways  to  be  trampled  on. 
There  shines  no  sun,  no  moon  by  night. 
The  palace  glory  is  the  palace  light  ; 
There  is  no  time  to  measure  motion  by 
Where  time  is  swallowed  in  Eternity ; 
Wry-mouthed  disdain  and  corner-hunting  lust, 
And  toady-faced  fraud  and  beetle-browed  distrust, 
Soul-boiling  rage  and  trouble  stale  sedition, 
And  giddy  doubt  and  goggle-eyed  suspicion, 


THE    HEAVENLY   STATE.  2/1 

And  lumpish  sorrow,  and  dangerous  fear 

Are  banished  thence,  and  death's  a  stranger  there. 

But  simple  love  and  sempiternal  joys 

Whose  sweetness  never  gloats  nor  fulness  cloys ; 

Where  face  to  face  our  ravished  eye  shall  see 

Great  God,  that  glorious  One  in  Three 

And  Three  in  One — and  seeing  Him  shall  bless  Him, 

And  blessing  love  Him — and  in  love  possess  Him. 


ALL  ABOUT  HIM  SHEDDETH  GLORIOUS 

LIGHT. 


EDMaND  Spenser. 


HIS  sceptre  is  the  rod  of  Righteousnesse, 
With  which  He  bruseth  all  His  foes  to  dust, 
And  the  great  dragon  strongly  doth  represse, 
Under  the  rigour  of  His  iudgment  iust ; 
His  seate  is  Truth,  to  which  the  faithful!  trust, 
From  whence  proceed  her  beames  so  pure  and  bright, 
That  all  about  Him  sheddeth  glorious  light. 

But  that  immortall  light  which  there  doth  shine 
Is  many  thousand  times  more  bright,  more  cleare. 

More  excellent,  more  glorious,  more  divine, 
Through  which  to  God  all  mortall  actions  here, 
And  even  the  thoughts  of  men,  do  plaine  appeare  ; 

For  from  th'  Eternall  Truth  it  doth  proceed. 

Through  heavenly  vertue  which  her  beams  doe  breed. 

With  the  great  glorie  of  that  wondrous  light 

His  throne  is  all  encompassed  around. 
And  hid  in  his  owne  brightnesse  from  the  sight 


2^2  HEAVEN    IN    SONG. 

Of  all  that  look  thereon  with  eyes  unsound; 

And  underneath  his  feet  are  to  be  found 
Thunder,  and  lightning,  and  tempestuous  fyre, 
The  instruments  of  his  avenging  yre. 

There,  in  his  bosome,  Sapience  doth  sit, 
The  soveraine  dearling  of  the  Deity, 

Clad  like  a  queene,  in  royall  robes  most  fit 
For  so  great  powre  and  peerelesse  majesty, 
And  all  with  gemmes  and  iewels  gorgeously 

Adorned,  that  brighter  than  the  starres  appeare, 

And  make  her  native  brightnesse  seem  more  cleare. 

And  on  her  head  a  crown  of  purest  gold 
Is  set,  in  signe  of  highest  soverainty  ; 

And  in  her  hand  a  sceptre  she  doth  hold, 

With  which  she  rules  the  house  of  God  on  hy, 
And  menageth  the  ever-moving  sky. 

And  in  the  same  these  lower  creatures  all 

Subiected  to  her  powre  imperial!. 


IN    SEEING  HIM  THEY  FIND  REPOSE. 


From  the  Italian  of  Dante,  by  I.  C.  Wric.ht. 


ALIGHT  there  is  above  which  plainly  shows 
The  great  Creator  to  the  creature,  who 
In  seeing  him  alone  can  find  repose. 
And  in  a  circle  spreads  to  such  degree. 

That  for  the  sun  would  its  circumference 
A  girdle  of  too  great  dimensions  be  ; 


THE   HEAVENLY    STATE.  273 

All  its  appearance  one  vast  ray  of  light 

Reflected  from  the  swiftest  heaven,  which  thence 
Derives  both  its  existence  and  its  might. 
And  as  a  cliff  looks  down  upon  the  bed 

Of  some  clear  stream,  to  see  how  richly  crowned 
With  flowers  and  foliage  is  its  lofty  head, 
So,  all  from  earth  who  hither  e'er  returned, 

Seated  on  more  than  thousand  thrones  around, 
Within  the  Eternal  Light  themselves  discerned ; 
And  if  the  very  lowest  tier  receives 

A  light  so  great,  how  wonderful  must  be 
This  rose  expanded  in  its  utmost  leaves ! 


LORD  OF  THE  WORLDS   ABOVE. 


Isaac  Watts. 


LORD  of  the  worlds  above, 
How  pleasant  and  how  fair 
The  dwellings  of  thy  love, 
Thy  earthly  temples,  are  ; 
To  thine  abode 
My  heart  aspires, 
With  warm  desires 
To  see  my  God. 

The  sparrow  for  her  young 
With  pleasure  seeks  her  nest, 

And  wandering  swallows  long 
To  find  their  wonted  rest ; 
18 


274  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

My  spirit  faints, 
With  equal  zeal 
To  rise  and  dwell 
Among  thy  saints. 

Oh  happy  souls  that  pray 

Where  God  appoints  to  hear ; 
Oh  happy  men  that  pay 

Their  constant  service  there  ; 
They  praise  thee  still, 
And  happy  they 
That  love  the  way 
To  Zion's  hill.  ^ 

They  go  from  strength  to  strength, 

Through  this  dark  vale  of  tears, 
Till  each  arrives  at  length, 
Till  each  in  heaven  appears. 
Oh  glorious  seat. 
When  God  our  King 
Shall  thither  bring 
Our  willing  feet. 


GIVE  ME  THE  LOWEST  PLACE. 


Christina  Rossetti. 


GIVE  me  the  lowest  place  :  not  that  I  dare 
Ask  for  that  lowest  place,  but  Thou  hast  died 
That  I  might  live  and  share 
Thy  glory  by  Thy  side. 


THE    HEAVENLY   STATE.  2/5 

Give  me  the  lowest  place  :  or  if  for  me 

That  lowest  place  too  high,  make  one  more  low 

Where  I  may  sit  and  see 
Aly  God,  and  love  Thee  so. 


THE  VISION  OF  JOHN. 


A  Paraphrase  on  the  21st  and  22d  Chapters  of  Revelation.     By  Ckammond 
Kennedy. 


I   JOHN,  a  servant  of  the  Lord, 
In  Patmos'  lonely  isle  was  bound  ; 
But  Christ  was  there,  and  in  His  love 
Deep  joy  in  banishment  I  found. 

He  sent  an  Angel  to  reveal 

The  glories  of  the  upper  sphere. 

Where  countless  hosts,  like  radiant  stars. 
Throughout  immensity  appear. 

I  saw  Jerusalem  descend, 

God's  glory  round  the  city  shone 

Bright  as  a  diamond  in  the  sun  ; 
Her  light  was  like  a  jasper-stone. 

I  then  beheld  twelve  pearly  gates- 
Twelve  Angel-watchmen  standing  there 

How  clear  the  walls'  foundations  were ! 
The  silver  moon's  not  half  so  fair! 


276  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

The  wall  was  built  of  jasper-stone, 
O'er  its  bright  surface  Seraphs  trod ; 

And  streets  of  burnished  gold  adorned 
The  glorious  city  of  my  God. 

No  gorgeous  temple  met  my  gaze ; 

Where  veiled  Seraphim  bow  low 
Before  the  Throne,  I  only  saw 

A  spotless  Lamb,  as  white  as  snow. 

He  was  their  temple — at  His  shrine 
Were  kneeling  nations  bathed  in  light ; 

And  kings  before  Him  prostrate  fell, 
They  owned  His  gentleness  and  might. 

A  river  clear  as  crystal  flowed 

From  out  the  great  white  Throne  of  God, 
And  rippling  through  the  golden  streets, 

Its  murmuring  music  sent  abroad. 

The  branches  of  the  Tree  of  Life 

Drooped  o'er  the  peaceful,  limpid  stream, 

While,  hanging  in  celestial  light. 
The  fruit  in  loveliness  did  gleam. 

And  those  who  taste  the  leaves  that  wave 
Above  Life's  river,  shall  be  healed ; 

The  curse  of  sin  these  leaves  destroy : 
This  blessed  truth  the  Lord  hath  sealed  ! 

The  saints  who  dwell  in  Paradise 
No  candle  need,  or  shining  sun  ; 

For  in  the  light  of  Jesus'  love 
A  brighter  glory  they  have  won. 


THE   HEAVENLY    STATE.  2^^ 

That  glory,  like  that  glory's  Source, 

Can  never,  never  fade  away  ; 
The  hosts  who  see  His  face,  behold 

The  sun  of  an  eternal  day ! 

"  O  glorious  truth  !  "  the  Angel  cried, 
"These  sayings  faithful  are  and  true  ; 

For  I  am  sent  these  things  to  show 
To  God's  elect,  by  showing  you  !  " 

Then  adoration  filled  my  soul, 

Before  the  Angel's  feet  I  fell. 
And  would  have  worshipped,  but  he  said, 

"  Arise,  arise,  thou  dost  not  well : 

"  For  I  thy  fellow-servant  am. 

The  prophets'  pathway  I  have  trod, 

And  kept  the  sayings  of  this  book : 
My  brother,  rise  and  worship  GOD." 


^ 


INHABITANTS   OF   HEAVEN. 


I  beheld,  and  lo,  a  great  multitude  which  no  man  could  number,  of  all  nations, 
and  people,  and  tongues,  stood  before  the  throne  and  before  the  Lamb,  clothed  in 
white  robes,  and  palms  in  their  hands. — Rev.  7  :  9. 

These  are  they  which  came  out  of  great  tribul>tion,  and  have  washed  their 
robes  and  made  them  white  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb. — Rev.  7  :  14. 

Him  that  overcometh  will  I  make  a  pillar  in  the  temple  of  my  God,  and  he 
shall  go  no  more  out. — Rev.  3  :  13. 


INHABITANTS  OF  HEAVEN, 


"A  LITTLE  CHILD  SHALL  LEAD  THEM. 


Mrs.  May  Riley  Smith.     Contributed  to  "  Heaven  in  Song." 


"nr^HE  land  is  wondrous  fair,"  the  Angel  said  ; 

-L   <*  Its  sapphire  skies  are  wrought  with  links  of  gold, 
Its  jewelled  gates  admit  nor  heat,  nor  cold  ; 
And  all  along  the  way  that  you  shall  tread 
A  perfume  marvellously  sweet  is  shed 
From  lilies  that  eternally  unfold." 

The  lovely  woman  raised  her  timid  face 
And  to  the  Messenger  of  Death  she  spoke  : 
"  I  know  that  human  right  can  ne'er  invoke 
A  vision  of  such  rare  surpassing  grace 
As  those  fair  mansions  in  the  Heavenly  Place  ; 
But  Life  and  I  have  never  friendship  broke. 

Therefore,  I  fain  would  stay,"  she  pleaded  low. 
The  Angel's  face  wore  nothing  of  command  : 
He  smiling  said  "  behold  unarmed  I  stand, 
I  left  behind  my  arrows  and  my  bow, 
I  shall  not  force  you,  lovely  one,  to  go, 
1  only  wait  till  you  shall  clasp  my  hand. 


282  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

But  see  !  e'en  now  your  eyes  are  wet  with  tears  ! 
Come  where  a  Holy  Hand  will  wipe  them  dry. 
O,  be  my  bride,  my  own  beloved !  and  I 
Will  kiss  away  your  doubtings  and  your  fears 
And  lead  you  gently  through  the  eternal  years, 
And  prove  a  love  that  ne'er  will  change  or  die  ! " 

The  woman  shrank  from  his  caressing  hand. 
"  But  life  hath  loyal  love  as  well,"  she  said; 
"  A  trusting  heart  would  break  if  I  were  dead  ; 
A  faithful  foot  would  track  me  to  your  land. 
And  at  the  gates  of  pearl  would  waiting  stand. 
This  life  is  fair  and  sweet  to  me,''  she  said. 

'*  But  human  love  is  frail  as  bended  reed," 
The  Angel  urged,  "  They  will  not  mourn  you  long 
In  Heaven  your  voice  is  needed  in  the  song, 
On  earth  another  one  can  fill  your  place. 
Within  my  bosom  hide  your  weeping  face. 
And  let  me  bear  you  to  the  waiting  throng.'' 

"  Nay,  nay,  sweet  Angel !  Spare  me  this  alarm, 

For  I  am  timid  of  the  lonesome  way! 

A  voice  I  love  is  begging  me  to  stay, 

A  precious  hand  is  clinging  to  my  arm, — ■ 

A  hand  that  never  brought  me  pain  or  harm. — 

O,  leave  me  now,  and  come  another  day\  " 


The  Angel  drew  her  close  and  whispered  sweet, 

»*'  Dear  Heart !  the  streets  are  fair  with  children  there. 


INHABITANTS.  OF   HEAVEN.  283 

God's  sunlight  hides  its  kisses  in  their  hair, 
And  everywhere  in  Heaven,  a  child  you  meet." 
The  woman  clasped  his  hand — and  toward  the  street 
That's  "  sweet  with  children  "  smiling  went  the  pair. 

Springfield,  Ills,  January  %th,  1872. 


STARS  OF  GLORY,  LIGHTS  OF  HEAVEN. 


A  Paraphrase  on  St.  Augustine.    By  Sophia  May  Eckley. 


OH  !  stars  of  glory,  lights  of  heaven  ! 
Shed  down  on  me  your  mystic  light, 
Illume  the  storms  that  round  me  threaten 
Reveal  the  perils  of  the  night, 

Through  which  my  barque  of  life  is  steering 
So  frail, — to  pirates  oft  exposed : 
Guard  it  from  rocks  and  reefs  of  peril 
Till  in  the  eternal  port  enclosed. 

The  little  freight  is  moor'd  in  safety 
Which  I  have  tried  to  garner  here^ 
In  commerce  spiritual  hoping 
It  yet  may  reach  the  haven  dear. 

Then  stars  of  glory,  lights  of  Heaven, 
Shed  down  on  me  your  mystic  light, 
Guide  me,  O  guide  me  to  the  haven 
Where  Faith  is  swallowed  up  in  Sight 


284  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


WHY  DO  WE  CALL  THEM  LOST? 


From  the  Church  of  England  Magazine. 


*'  ^  I  ^HE  loved  and  lost ! "  why  do  we  call  them  lost? 

-L      Because  we  miss  them  from  our  onward  road  ? 
God's  unseen  angel  o'er  our  pathway  crost, 
Looked  on  us  all,  and  loving  them  the  most, 

Straightway  relieved  them  from  life's  weary  load. 

They  are  not  lost :  they  are  within  the  door 
That  shuts  out  loss,  and  every  hurtful  thing — 

With  angels  bright,  and  loved  ones  gone  before, 

In  their  Redeemer's  presence  evermore, 

And  God  himself  their  Lord  and  Judge  and  King. 

A  poor  wayfarer,  leading  by  the  hand 

A  little  child,  had  halted  by  a  well 
To  wash  from  off  her  feet  the  clinging  sand, 
And  tell  the  tired  boy  of  that  bright  land 

Where,  this  long  journey  past,  they  longed  to  dwell, 

When  lo  !  the  Lord  who  many  mansions  had 
Drew  near  and  looked  upon  the  suffering  twain, 

Then  pitying  spake,  ''  Give  me  the  little  lad  ; 

In  strength  renewed,  and  glorious  beauty  clad, 
I'll  bring  him  with  me  when  I  come  again." 


INHABITANTS   OF   HEAVEN.  285 

Did  she  make  answer  selfishly  and  wrong — 

''  Nay,  but  the  woes  I  feel  he  too  must  share?" 
Oh  rather,  bursting  into  grateful  song, 
She  went  her  way  rejoicing,  and  made  strong 
To  struggle  on,  since  he  was  freed  from  care. 

We  will  do  likewise :  death  hath  made  no  breach 
In  love  and  sympathy,  in  hope  and  trust ; 

No  outward  sign  or  sound  our  ears  can  reach, 

But  there's  an  inward  unspoken  speech 

That  greets  us  still,  though  mortal  tongues  be  dust. 

It  bids  us  do  the  work  that  they  laid  down — 

Take  up  the  song  where  they  broke  off  the  strain ; 
So  journeying  till  we  reach  the  heavenly  town 
Where  are  laid  up  our  treasures  and  our  crown, 
And  our  lost  loved  ones  will  be  found  again. 


**  SUFFER  THEM  TO  COME  TO  ME." 


From  Lyra  Anglicana. 


Suffer  little  children  to  come  unto  me,  and  forbid  them  not ;  for  of  such  is  the 
kingdom  of  heaven." 

ALL  along  the  mighty  ages, 
All  adown  the  solemn  time, 
They  have  taken  up  their  homeward 
March  to  that  serener  clime, 


286  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

Where  the  watching,  waiting  angels 
Lead  them  from  the  shadow  dim, 

To  the  brightness  of  His  presence 
Who  has  called  them  unto  Him. 

They  are  going — only  going — 

Out  of  pain  and  into  bliss — 
Out  of  sad  and  sinful  weakness 

Into  perfect  holiness. 
Snowy  brows — no  care  shall  shade  them ; 

Bright  eyes — tears  shall  never  dim  ; 
Rosy  lips — no  time  shall  fade  them  ; 

Jesus  called  them  unto  Him. 

Little  hearts  forever  stainless — 

Little  hands  as  pure  as  they — 
Little  feet  by  angels  guided 

Never  a  forbidden  way ! 
They  are  going,  ever  going  ! 

Leaving  many  a  lonely  spot ; 
But  'tis  Jesus  who  has  called  them — 

*'  Suffer,  and  forbid  them  not/* 


INHABITANTS   OF  HEAVEN.  28/ 


"WHOM  HAVE  I  IN  HEAVEN  BUT  THEE?'^ 


Francis  Quarles. 


•'  Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  Thee?  and  there  is  none  upon  earth  that  I  desire 
beside  Thee." 

I   LOVE,  (and  have  some  cause  to  love)  the  earth ; 
She  is  my  Maker's  creature,  therefore  good  ; 
She  is  my  mother,  for  she  gave  me  birth  ; 

She  is  my  tender  nurse,  she  gives  me  food ; 
But  what's  a  creature,  Lord,  compared  with  Thee  ? 
Or  what's  my  mother,  or  my  nurse,  to  me  ? 

I  love  the  air  ;  her  daily  sweets  refresh 

My  drooping  soul,  and  to  new  sweets  invite  me  ; 

Her  shrill-mouthed  choir  sustain  me  with  their  flesh ; 
And  with  their  Polyphonian  notes  delight  me  : 

But  what's  the  air,  or  all  the  sweets  that  she 

Can  bless  my  soul  withal,  compared  to  Thee  ? 

I  love  the  sea ;  she  is  my  fellow-creature, 

My  careful  purveyor  :  she  provides  my  store  ; 

She  walls  me  round  ;  she  makes  my  diet  greater ; 
She  wafts  my  treasure  from  a  foreign  shore  : 

But,  Lord  of  oceans,  when  compared  with  Thee, 

What  is  the  ocean,  or  her  wealth,  to  me? 

Without  Thy  presence,  earth  gives  no  reflection  ; 

Without  Thy  presence,  sea  affords  no  treasure ; 
Without  Thy  presence,  air's  a  rank  infection  ; 

Without  Thy  presence,  heaven  itself  s  no  pleasure  ; 


288  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

If  not  possessed,  if  not  enjoyed  in  Thee, 
What's  earth,  or  sea,  or  air,  or  heaven,  to  me? 

Without  Thy  presence,  wealth  is  bags  of  cares  ; 

Wisdom  but  folly ;  joy,  disquiet,  sadness  ; 
Friendship  is  treason,  and  delights  are  snares  ; 

Pleasure's  but  pain,  and  mirth  but  pleasing  madness  ; 
Without  Thee,  Lord,  things  be  not  what  they  be, 
Nor  have  their  being,  when  compared  with  Thee. 

In  having  all  things,  and  not  Thee,  what  have  I  ? 

Not  having  Thee,  what  have  my  labors  got  ? 
Let  me  enjoy  but  Thee,  what  farther  crave  I  ? 

And  having  Thee  alone,  what  have  I  not  ? 
I  wish  not  sea,  nor  land  ;  nor  would  I  be 
Possessed  of  heaven,  heaven  unpossessed  of  Thee! 


STILL  THOU  ART  MINE  OWN. 


By  Paul  Gkrhardt  :  Translated  by  Catherine  Winkworth. 


The  following  touching  and  beautiful  stanzas  were  written  by  Paul  Gerhardt  in 
1650,  on  the  death  of  his  som 

THOU'RT  mine,  yes,  still  thou  art  mine  own  ! 
Who  tells  me  thou  art  lost? 
But  yet  thou  art  not  mine  alone, 

I  own  that  He  who  cross'd 
My  hopes,  hath  greatest  right  in  thee  ; 
Yea,  though  He  ask  and  take  from  me 
Thee,  O  my  son,  my  heart's  delight. 
My  wish,  my  thought,  by  day  and  night. 


INHABITANTS   OF   HEAVEN.  289 

Ah  might  I  wish,  ah  might  I  choose, 

Then  thou,  my  star  shouldst  live, 
And  gladly  for  thy  sake  I'd  lose 

All  else  that  life  can  give. 
Oh  fain  I'd  say  :  Abide  with  me, 
The  sunshine  of  my  house  to  be, 
No  other  joy  but  this  I  crave, 
To  love  thee,  darling,  to  my  grave ! 

Thus  saith  my  heart,  and  means  it  well, 

God  meaneth  better  still ; 
My  love  is  more  than  words  can  tell, 

His  love  is  greater  still ; 
I  am  a  father,  He  the  Head 
And  Crown  of  fathers,  whence  is  shed 
The  life  and  love  from  which  have  sprung 
All  blessed  ties  in  old  and  young. 

I  long  for  thee,  my  son,  my  own. 

And  He  who  once  hath  given, 
Will  have  thee  now  beside  His  throne, 

To  live  with  Him  in  heaven. 
I  cry,  Alas  !  my  light,  my  child  ! 
But  God  hath  welcome  on  him  smiled. 
And  said,  "  My  child  I  keep  thee  near. 
For  there  is  nought  but  gladness  here." 

O  blessed  word,  O  deep  decree, 

More  holy  than  we  think  ! 
With  God  no  grief  or  woe  can  be, 

No  bitter  cup  to  drink, 
19 


290  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

No  sickening  hopes,  no  want  or  care, 
No  hurt  can  ever  reach  him  there ; 
Yes,  in  that  Father's  sheltered  home 
I  know  that  sorrow  cannot  come. 

"We  pass  our  nights  in  wakeful  thought 

For  our  dear  children's  sake  ; 
All  day  our  anxious  toil  hath  sought 

How  best  for  them  to  make 
A  future  safe  from  care  or  need, 
Yet  seldom  do  our  schemes  succeed  ; 
How  seldom  does  their  future  prove 
What  we  had  planned  for  those  we  love ! 

How  many  a  child  of  promise  fair 

Ere  now  hath  gone  astray, 
By  ill  example  taught  to  dare 

Forsake  Christ's  holy  way. 
O  fearful  the  reward  is  then, 
The  wrath  of  God,  the  scorn  of  men  ! 
The  bitterest  tears  that  e'er  are  shed 
Are  his  who  mourns  a  child  misled. 

But  now  I  need  not  fear  for  thee, 

Where  thou  art,  all  is  well ; 
For  thou  thy  Father's  face  doth  see 

With  Jesus  thou  dost  dwell ! 
Yes,  cloudless  joys  around  him  shine, 
His  heart  shall  never  ache  like  mine, 
He  sees  the  radiant  armies  glow 
That  keep  and  guide  us  here  below. 


INHABITANTS   OF    HEAVEN.  2gl 

He  hears  their  singing  evermore, 

His  Httle  voice  too  sings, 
He  drinks  of  wisdom  deepest  love, 

He  speaks  of  secret  things, 
That  we  can  never  see  or  know 
Howe'er  we  seek  or  strive  below. 
While  yet  amid  the  mists  we  stand 
That  veil  this  dark  and  tearful  land. 

O  that  I  could  but  watch  afar, 

And  hearken  but  awhile 
To  that  sweet  song  that  hath  no  jar, 

And  see  his  heavenly  smile, 
As  he  doth  praise  the  holy  God 
Who  made  him  pure  for  that  abode  ! 
In  tears  of  joy  full  well  I  know 
This  burdened  heart  would  overflow. 

And  I  should  say :  Stay  there,  my  son. 

My  wild  laments  are  o'er, 
O  well  for  thee  that  thou  hast  won, 

r  call  thee  back  no  more  ; 
But  come,  thou  fiery  chariot,  come. 
And  bear  me  swiftly  to  that  home 
Where  he  with  many  a  loved  one  dwells, 
And  evermore  of  gladness  tells  ! 

Then  be  it  as  my  Father  wills, 

I  will  not  weep  for  thee  ; 
Thou  livest,  joy  thy  spirit  fills, 

Pure  sunshine  thou  dost  see, 


292  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

The  sunshine  of  eternal  rest  ; 

Abide  my  child  where  thou  art  blest ; 

I  with  our  friends  will  onward  fare, 

And  when  God  wills,  shall  find  thee  there. 


WHERE  I  SHALL  WITH  MY  JESUS  BE. 


J.  Franck. 


ONE  who  is  weary  with  this  load, 
Faint  with  the  sun, 
Would  fain  have  done, 
And  craves  long  shadows  on  the  road  ; 
That  after  so  much  labor  past 
He  may  sleep  sweet  and  sound  at  last. 
But  all  my  longing  is  with  Thee, 
Jesus,  my  only  rest,  to  be ! 

Another  doth  pursue  his  trade 

By  wave  and  cliff, 

Where  his  frail  skiff 
Is  tempest  tossed  and  he  afraid. 
But  I  will  faith-wings  spread,  and  fly 
Up,  past  the  star-hills  of  the  sky ! 
For,  Jesus,  Thou  alone  shall  be 
The  end  of  pilgrimage  to  me. 

Come,  death  !  sleep's  only  brother  thou  ! 

Come,  take  the  helm 

And  through  thy  realm 
To  the  sure  harbor  guide  my  prow. 


INHABITANTS   OF   HEAVEN.  293 

He  may  repel  thee  who  doth  fear; 
But  I  rejoice  to  see  thee  near, 
For  thou  alone  canst  usher  me, 
Where  I  shall  with  my  Jesus  be ! 


"WOMAN,  WHY  WEEPEST  THOU?" 


Mrs.  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe.     [Dedicated  to  the  memory  of  "  Annie,"  who 
died  at  Milan,  June  6,  i860.] 


"  Jesus  saith  unto  her,  '  Woman,  why  weepest  thou  ?  whom  seekest  thou  ? " 
She,  supposing  him  to  be  the  gardener,  said  unto  him :  '  Sir,  if  thou  have  borne  him 
hence,  tell  me  where  thou  hast  laid  him.' " 

IN  the  fair  gardens  of  celestial  peace, 
Walketh  a  Gardener  in  meekness  clad  ; 
Fair  are  the  flowers  that  wreath  his  dewy  locks. 
And  his  mysterious  eyes  are  sweet  and  sad. 

Fair  are  the  silent  foldings  of  his  robes, 
Falling  with  saintly  calmness  at  his  feet ; 

And  when  he  walks,  each  floweret  to  his  will 
With  living  pulse  of  sweet  accord  doth  beat. 

Every  green  leaf  thrills  to  its  tender  heart, 
In  the  mild  summer  radiance  of  his  eye  ; — 

No  fear  of  storm,  or  bold,  or  bitter  frost, 

Shadows  the  flowerets  when  their  sun  is  nigh. 

And  all  our  pleasant  haunts  of  earthly  love 
Are  nurseries  to  those  gardens  of  the  air  ; 

And  his  far-darting  eye,  with  starry  beam, 
Watcheth  the  growing  of  his  treasures  there. 


294  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

We  call  them  ours,  o'erwept  v/ith  selfish  tears, 

O'erwatched  with  restless  longings  night  and  day ; 

Forgetful  of  the  high,  mysterious  right 

He  holds  to  bear  our  cherished  plants  away. 

But  when  some  sunny  spot  in  those  bright  fields 
Needs  the  fair  presence  of  an  added  flower, 

Down  sweeps  a  starry  angel  in  the  night ; — 

At  morn,  the  rose  has  vanished  from  our  bower. 

Where  stood  our  tree,  our  flower,  there  is  a  grave! 

Blank,  silent,  vacant :  but  in  worlds  above — 
Like  a  new  star  outblossom'd  in  the  skies — 

The  angels  hail  an  added  flower  of  love. 

Yes,  the  sweet  Gardener  hath  borne  her  hence — 
Nor  must  thou  ask  to  take  her  thence  away ; 

Thou  shalt  behold  her  in  some  coming  hour, 
Full-blossomed  in  his  fields  of  cloudless  day. 


"  EQUAL    UNTO   THE  ANGELS." 

EQUAL  to  Angels  are  our  beloved  ! 
Christ  has  redeemed  them — His  promise  is  passed. 
A  noontide  of  glory  has  opened  upon  them. 
As  long  as  Eternity's  cycles  shall  last. 
Equal  to  Angels  !     Oh,  could  we  but  know 
The  bliss  that  surrounds  them,  how  gladly  we'd  go  ! 


INHABITANTS   OF   HEAVEN.  295 

Equal  to  Angels  are  our  beloved ! 

With  the  blessed  of  all  ages  who've  lived  and  who've 

died  ; 
The  children  of  Heaven,  adopted  and  pardoned ! 
What  more  can  we  wish  for  our  loved  ones  beside? 
Equal  to  Angels  !  exalted  and  pure, 
Their  triumph  through  Jesus  is  lasting  and  sure ! 

Equal  to  Angels  are  our  beloved  ! 
All  radiant  with  beauty  in  garments  of  white, 
For  "children  of  God,"  must  ever  be  spotless, 
Beholding  His  face,  in  that  Heavenly  Light ! 
Equal  to  Angels!     Oh  never  to  die! 
Death  has  been  conquered  forever  on  high. 

Equal  to  Angels  are  our  beloved  ! 

Reunion  is  certain,  we  shall  meet  again  ! 

Those  bright  cheering  words  of  divine  consolation, 

Ne'er  could  have  by  Jesus  been  spoken  in  vain ! 

"  Equal  to  Angels  !  "     Then  trust  in  the  Lord, 

For  they  are  His  children — and  He  is  their  God  ! 


ANGELS    BRIGHT,   ALL    GLISTENING    GLO- 
RIOUS. 


Edmund  Spenser. 


ANGELS  bright. 
All  glistening  glorious,  in  their  Maker's  light ; 

To  them  the  heaven's  illimitable  height 

(Not  this  round  Heaven,  which  we  from  hence  behold, 

Adorned  with  thousand  lamps  of  burning  light. 


296  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

And  with  ten  thousand  gemmes  of  shining  gold,) 
He  gave  as  their  inheritance  to  hold, 
That  they  might  serve  Him  in  eternal  blisse 
And  be  partakers  of  those  ioys  of  His. 

There  they,  in  their  trinall  tripHcities 
About  Him  wait,  and  on  His  will  depend, 
Either  with  nimble  wings  to  cut  the  skies 
When  He  them  on  His  messages  doth  send. 
Or  on  His  own  dread  presence  to  attend, 
Where  they  behold  the  glory  of  His  light 
And  caroll  hymns  of  love,  both  day  and  night. 

Both  day  and  night  is  unto  them  all  one ; 
For  He,  His  beams  doth  unto  them  extend. 
That  darknesse  their  appeareth  never  none ; 
Ne  hath  their  day,  ne  hath  their  blisse  an  end. 
But  There,  their  termelesse  time  in  pleasure  spend ; 
Ne  ever  should  their  happinesse  decay, 
Had  not  they  dar'd  their  Lord  to  disobey. 


WHAT  MEANS  YON  BLAZE  ON  HIGH  ? 


Henry  Hart  Milman. 


W 


HAT  means  yon  blaze  on  high  ? 
The  empyrean  sky, 
Like  the  rich  veil  of  some  proud  fane,  is  rending; 
I  see  the  star-paved  land 
Where  all  the  angels  stand. 
Even  to  the  highest  height,  in  burning  rows  ascending. 


INHABITANTS   OF   HEAVEN.  297 

Some,  with  their  wings  disspread, 

And  bowed  the  stately  head, 
As  on  some  mission  of  God's  love  departing, 
Like  flames  at  midnight  conflagration  starting. 
Behold !  the  appointed  messengers  are  they, 
And  nearest  earth  they  wait,  to  waft  our  souls  away. 

Higher  and  higher  still, 

More  lofty  statures  fill 
The  jasper-courts  of  the  Everlasting  Dwelling  ; 

Cherub  and  seraph  pace 

The  illimitable  space, 
While  sleep  the  folded  plumes  from  their  white  shoul- 
ders swelling  ; 

From  all  the  harping  throng 

Bursts  the  tumultuous  song, 
Like  the  unceasing  sound  of  cataracts  pouring, 
Hosanna  o'er  hosanna  loudly  soaring; 
That  faintly  echoing  down  to  earthly  ears, 
Hath  seemed  the  concert  sweet,  of  the    harmonious 
spheres. 

Still  my  wrapt  spirit  mounts, 
And  lo  !  beside  the  founts 

Of  flowing  light,  Christ's  chosen  saints  reclining; 
Distinct  among  the  blaze, 
Their  palm-crowned  heads  they  raise, 

Their   white    robes,   e'en    through   that   o'erpowering 
lustre  shining. 

Each,  in  his  place  of  state, 
Long  the  bright  twelve  have  sat, 


298  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

O'er  the  celestial  Zion,  high  uplifted  ; 
While  those  with  deep  prophetic  raptures  gifted, 
Where  life's  glad  river  rolls  its  tideless  streams, 
Enjoy  the  full  completion  of  their  heavenly  dreams. 

Again.     I  see  again 

The  great  victorious  train, 
The  martyr-army,  from  their  toils  reposing, 

The  blood-red  robes  they  wear 

Empurpling  all  the  air, 
E'en    their   immortal   limbs  the  signs  of  wounds  dis- 
closing. 

O  holy  Stephen  !  thou 

Art  there,  and  on  thy  brow 
Hast  still  the  placid  smile  it  wore  in  dying, 
When  under  the  heaped  stones  in  anguish  lying, 
Thy  clasping  hands  were  fondly  spread  to  heaven, 
And  thy  last  accents  prayed  thy  foes  might  be  for- 
given. 

Beyond,  ah  !  who  is  there 

With  the  white  snowy  hair? 
'Tis  He,  'tis  He,  the  Son  of  Man  appearing 

At  the  right  hand  of  One 

The  darkness  of  whose  throne 
That  sun-eyed  seraph  host  behold  with  awe  and  fearing. 

O'er  him  the  rainbow  springs, 

And  spreads  its  emerald  wings 
Down  to  the  glassy  sea,  His  loftiest  seat  o'erarching, 
Hark  !  thunders  from  His  throne,  like  steel-clad  armies 

marching  ! 
The  Christ !  the  Christ  commands  us  to  His  home  ! 
Jesus,  Redeemer,  Lord,  we  come — we  come  ! 


INHABITANTS   OF    HEAVEN.  299 


HEAVEN  GROWS  DEARER  DAY  BY  DAY. 


Anonymous. 


AS  distant  lands  beyond  the  sea, 
When  friends  go  thence,  draw  nigh, 
So  heaven,  when  friends  have  hither  gone, 
Draws  nearer  from  the  sky. 

And  as  those  lands  the  dearer  grow. 

When  friends  are  long  away. 
So  heaven  itself,  through  loved  ones  gone, 

Grows  dearer  day  by  day. 

Heaven  is  not  far  from  those  who  see 

With  the  pure  spirit's  sight, 
But  near,  and  in  the  very  reach 

Of  those  who  see  aright. 


THOU  WILT  NEVER  GROW  OLD. 


Mrs.     HOWARTH. 


THOU  wilt  never  grow  old, 
Nor  weary,  nor  sad,  in  the  home  of  thy  birth  ; 
My  beautiful  lily,  thy  leaves  will  unfold 

In  a  clime  that  is  purer  and  brighter  than  earth  ; 


300  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

0  holy  and  fair,  I  rejoice  thou  art  there — 

In  that  kingdom  of  Hght,  with  its  cities  of  gold  ; 
Where  the  air  thrills  with  angel  hosannas,  and  where 
Thou  wilt  never  grow  old,  sweet — 
Never  grow  old  ! 

1  am  a  pilgrim  with  sorrow  and  sin 

Haunting  my  footsteps,  wherever  I  go ; 
Life  is  a  warfare  my  title  to  win — 
Well  it  be,  if  it  end  not  in  woe ! 
Pity  me,  dear,  I  am  laden  with  care  ; 

Dark  are  my  garments  with  mildew  and  mould  ; 
Thou,  my  sweet  darling,  art  sinless  and  fair, 
And  wilt  never  grow  old,  sweet — 
Never  grow  old  ! 

Thus  wilt  thou  be,  as  the  pilgrim,  grown  gray, 

Weeps  when    the  vines   from   the  hearthstone   are 
riven  ; — 
Faith  shall  behold  thee,  as  pure  as  the  day 
Thou  wert  torn  from  the  earth,  and   transplanted   to 

Heaven. 
O  holy  and  fair,  I  rejoice  thou  art  There, 

In  that  kingdom  of  light,  with  its  cities  of  gold, 
Where  the  air  thrills  with  angel  hosannas,  and  where 
Thou  wilt  never  grow  old,  sweet — 
Never  grow  old ! 


INHABITANTS   OF   HEAVEN.  3OI 


WHO  ARE  THOSE  BEFORE  GOD'S  THRONE? 


From  the  German  of  Schknck.    Translated  by  Catherine  Winkworth. 


WHO  are  those  before  God's  throne, 
What  the  crowned  host  I  see  ? 
As  the  sky  with  stars  thick-strown 

Is  their  shining  company  ; 
Hallelujahs,  hark,  they  sing  ; 
Solemn  praise  to  God  they  bring. 

Who  are  those  that  in  their  hands 
Bear  aloft  the  conqueror's  palm,    - 

As  one  o'er  his  foeman  stands. 
Fallen  beneath  his  mighty  arm  ? 

What  the  war  and  what  the  strife  ? 

Whence  came  such  victorious  life  ? 

Who  are  those  arrayed  in  light. 
Clothed  in  righteousness  divine, 

Wearing  robes  so  pure  and  white. 
That  unstained  shall  ever  shine. 

That  can  never  more  decay — 

Whence  come  all  this  bright  array  ? 

They  are  those  who  strong  in  faith, 
Battled  for  the  mighty  God  ; 

Conquerors  o'er  the  world  and  death, 
Following  not  sin's  crowded  road  ; 


302  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Throngh  the  Lamb  who  once  was  slain, 
Did  they  such  high  victory  gain. 

They  are  those  who  much  have  borne, 
Trial,  sorrow,  pain,  and  care. 

Who  have  wrestled  night  and  morn 
With  the  mighty  God  in  prayer  ; 

Now  their  strife  hath  found  its  close ; 

God  hath  turned  away  their  woes. 

They  are  branches  of  that  Stem 
Who  hath  our  salvation  been ; 

In  the  blood  He  shed  for  them 

Have  they  made  their  raiment  clean  ; 

Hence  they  wear  such  radiant  dress, 

Clad  in  spotless  holiness. 

They  are  those  who  hourly  here 
Served  as  priests  before  the  Lord, 

Offering  up,  with  gladsome  cheer. 
Soul  and  body  at  His  word. 

Now,  within  the  holy  place 

They  behold  Him  face  to  face ! 

As  the  harts  at  noonday  pant 
For  the  river  fresh  and  clear, 

Did  their  souls  oft  long  and  faint 
For  the  living  Fountain  here  ; 

Now  their  thirst  is  quenched  ;  they  dwell 

With  the  Lord  they  loved  so  well ! 


INHABITANTS   OF   HEAVEN.  303 

Ah  !  that  bliss  can  ne'er  be  told 

When  with  all  that  army  bright 
Thee,  my  Sun,  I  shall  behold, 

Shining,  star-Hke,  with  Thy  light ! 
Amen,  thanks  be  brought  to  Thee, 

Praise  through  all  eternity ! 


WHO  WOULD  RECALL  HER? 


Ray  Palmer. 


SHE  hath  but  passed  to  Heaven,  as  if  from  sleep — 
Sleep  soft  and  peaceful ;  she  awoke  to  find 
Earth  with  its  pangs  and  tears  all  left  behind  ! 
Rose  her  freed  spirit  up  th'e  airy  steep, 
On  steady  wings,  beyond  where  pale  stars  keep 
Their  watch  o'er  mortal  griefs  ;  she  upward  sped, 
Not  lonely,  but  by  sister  spirits  led, 
To  that  dear  home  where  eyes  do  never  weep  : 
Strange  rapture  thrilled  her  there ;    and  straight  her 

note. 
With  sweet  accord,  swelled  the  eternal  hymn 
Of  souls  redeemed,  led  by  the  seraphim  ; 
Whose  echoes  through  the  circling  ages  float. 
Now  living,  conscious,  pure  as  angels  bright, 
With  God  she  dwells  in  everlasting  light. 
Who  would  recall  her  to  tread  o'er  again 
The  mortal  path — from  Heaven's  pure  bliss  recall  ? 
The  wish  were  weakness — though  full  oft  must  fall 
Thick  blinding  tears,  from  eyes  that  once  were  fain 


304  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

To  catch  her  genial  smile,  ne'er  sought  in  vain. 
Though  many  an  hour  fond  hearts  be  sad  and  lone, 
And  miss,  and  yearn  once  more  to  drink  the  tone 
That  lingers  in  the  ear,  like  some  lost  strain. 
No,  ye  that  loved  her,  now  to  Heaven  resign, 
Nor  wish  her  from  that  nobler  life  withdrawn  ; 
The  night  of  grief  shall  pass;  and  with  the  morn 
Shall  come  sweet  memories ;  and  a  face  divine 
With  all  your  worthiest  thoughts  shall  blend, 
And  a  fair  form  your  wandering  steps  attend. 


SHE  IS  IN  HEAVEN!   HOW  SWEET  THE 
PHRASE! 


Charlotte  Elliott. 


SHE  is  in  Heaven  !     How  swtet  the  phrase! 
Yet  its  high  import  who  can  tell  ? 
Here  like  a  glimmering  beam  it  plays. 
Of  light,  of  joy  ineffable. 

She  is  in  Heaven,  to  form  a  link 

Between  thy  heart  and  worlds  unseen, 

That  then,  when  Nature's  powers  must  sink, 
Faith's  holier  virtue  may  be  seen. 

She  is  in  Heaven,  that  thou,  like  her, 
May'st  shine  with  a  pure  steadfast  light ; 

Attract  their  eyes  whose  footsteps  err. 
And  guide  their  wandering  feet  aright. 


INHABITANTS   OF   HEAVEN.  305 

She  is  in  Heaven ;  though  still  unseen, 
With  hers  thy  notes  of  praise  may  blend  ; 

On  the  same  Rock  thy  soul  may  lean, 
To  the  same  centre  hourly  tend. 


FIND  ROOM,  DEAR  LORD,  FOR  ME. 


Thomas  H.  Gill. 
"  In  My  Father's  House  are  many  Mansions." 

OWHEN  did  lips  such  grace  declare? 
The  Father's  house  hath  room ! 
Yes,  many  are  the  mansions  fair ; 
Thy  people  all  may  come. 

The  heavenly  glory  may  not  part 

Thy  lovers,  Lord,  from  thee : 
O  Saviour  sweet,  where'er  Thou  art 

There  all  Thine  own  shall  be. 

Full  welcome  to  the  heavenly  land 

Thy  lowly  lovers  win  ; 
The  golden  gates  all  open  stand 

To  let  Thy  mourners  in. 

Thou  bringest  home  Thy  shining  ones 

In  Thine  own  light  to  shine : 
Thou  settest  high  on  glorious  thrones 

Those  hidden  ones  of  Thine. 


306  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Room  for  Thy  weaklings  Thou  dost  make 

Among  Thy  men  of  might ; 
Those  fadeless  palms  Thy  martyrs  take 

And  wear  that  raiment  white. 

For  each  Thou  hast  a  portion  meet ; 

On  all  doth  wait  Thy  love ; 
Thy  brethren  dear  make  yet  more  sweet 

The  Father's  house  above. 

Dear  Lord  !  hast  thou  my  white  robe  wrought  ? 

Wilt  thou  my  place  prepare? 
Hast  thou  for  me  a  tender  thought, 

For  me  a  mansion  fair  ? 

Yes,  in  the  Father's  house  divine 

Find  room,  dear  Lord,  for  me, 
And  grant  this  longing  soul  of  mine 

An  endless  home  with  Thee. 


OVER  THE  RIVER  THEY  BECKON  ME. 


Nancy  W.  Priest. 


OVER  the  river  they  beckon  to  me, 
Loved  ones  who've  crossed  to  the  further  side. 
The  gleam  of  their  snowy  robes  I  see. 

But  their  voices  are  lost  in  the  dashing  tide. 
There's  one  with  ringlets  of  sunny  gold, 

And  eyes  the  reflection  of  heaven's  own  blue, 
He  crossed  in  the  twilight  grey  and  cold, 

And  the  pale  mist  hid  him  from  mortal  view ; 


INHABITANTS    OF   HEAVEN.  307 

We  saw  not  the  angels  who  met  him  there, 
The  gates  of  the  city  we  could  not  see, 

Over  the  river,  over  the  river, 

My  brother  stands  waiting  to  welcome  me. 


Over  the  river  the  boatman  pale 

Carried  another,  the  household  pet ; 
Her  brown  curls  waved  in  the  gentle  gale, 

Darling  Minnie!     I  see  her  yet. 
She  crossed  on  her  bosom  her  dimpled  hands. 

And  fearlessly  entered  the  phantom  bark, 
We  felt  it  glide  from  the  silver  sands. 

And  all  our  sunshine  grew  strangely  dark  ; 
We  know  she  is  safe  on  the  further  side. 

Where  all  the  ransomed  and  angels  be ; 
Over  the  river,  the  mystic  river. 

My  childhood's  idol  is  waiting  for  me. 


For  none  return  from  those  quiet  shores. 

Who  cross  with  the  boatman  cold  and  pale ; 
We  hear  the  dip  of  the  golden  oars. 

And  catch  a  gleam  of  the  snowy  sail ; 
And  lo  !  they  have  passed  from  our  yearning  hearts 

They  cross  the  stream  and  are  gone  for  aye. 
We  may  not  sunder  the  veil  apart 

That  hides  from  our  vision  the  gates  of  day, 
We  only  know  that  their  barks  no  more 

May  sail  with  us  o'er  life's  stormy  sea; 
Yet  somewhere  I  know  on  the  unseen  shore, 

They  watch,  and  beckon,  and  wait  for  me. 


308  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

And  I  sit  and  think  when  the  sunset's  gold 

Is  flushing  river  and  hill  and  shore, 
I  shall  one  day  stand  by  the  water  cold 

And  list  for  the  sound  of  the  boatman's  oar; 
I  shall  watch  for  a  gleam  of  the  flapping  sail, 

I  shall  hear  the  boat  as  it  gains  the  strand, 
I  shall  pass  from  sight  with  the  boatman  pale, 

To  the  better  shore  of  the  spirit  land. 
I  shall  know  the  loved  who  have  gone  before, 

And  joyfully  sweet  will  the  meeting  be. 
When  over  the  river,  the  peaceful  river, 

The  Angel  of  Death  shall  carry  me. 


THEY  ARE  GATHERING    HOMEWARD,  ONE 
BY  ONE. 


By  the  daughter  of  an  English  Baptist  Missionary  in  Calcutta. 


THEY  are  gathering  homeward  from  every  land, 
One  by  one. 
As  their  weary  feet  touch  the  shining  strand 

One  by  one. 
Their  brows  are  enclosed  in  a  golden  crown, 
Their  travel-stained  garments  are  all  laid  down, 
And  clothed  in  white  raiment  they  rest  on  the  mead, 
Where  the  Lamb  loveth  His  chosen  to  lead, 
One  by  one. 

Before  the  rest  they  pass  through  the  strife 

One  by  one, 
Through  the  waters  of  death  they  enter  life 

One  by  one. 


INHABITANTS    OF   HEAVEN.  3O9 

To  some  are  the  floods  of  the  river  still 
As  they  ford  on  their  way  to  the  heavenly  hill, 
To  others  the  waves  run  fiercely  and  wild, 
Yet  all  reach  the  home  of  the  undefiled 
One  by  one. 

We  too  shall  come  to  the  river  side 

One  by  one, 
We  are  nearer  its  waters  each  eventide. 

One  by  one 
We  can  hear  the  noise  and  dash  of  the  stream 
Now  and  again  through  our  life's  deep  dream  ; 
Sometimes  the  floods  all  the  banks  o'erflow, 
Sometimes  in  ripples  the  small  waves  go, 

One  by  one. 


OPEN  YE  GATES,  FOR  THE  BATTLE  HATH 
ENDED. 


William   Palin, 


OPEN  !  ye  Gates,  for  the  battle  hath  ended, 
The  warfare  is  over,  the  victory  won  : 
Mighty  the  foe  who  his  kingdom  defended, 
But  mightier  things  by  our  Captain  are  done. 

Sound  !  sound  your  harps!  in  your  mansions  of  glory, 
Ye  Angels,  who  heralded  peace  at  His  birth  ; 

Now  welcome  Him  back,  while  man  takes  up  the  story, 
And  echoes  the  tidings  of  peace  upon  earth. 


3IO  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Olivet !  henceforth  for  evermore  holy, 

As  Bethlehem,  Tabor,  thy  name  we  will  call ; 

He  trod  thee  despised,  rejected  and  lowly. 
Behold  Him  now  triumphing,  LORD  over  all. 

Higher,  yet  higher,  behold  Him  ascending  ; 

See  !  Messengers  coming  apparelled  in  white  ; 
See  Him  now  vanish,  the  marvel  is  ending, 

The  cloud  is  receiving  Him  out  of  our  sight  ! 

Open,  ye  gates  !  yet  again  shall  the  thrilling 
Command  be  repeated,  and  all  men  shall  hear: 

Saints,  as  their  heritage  Heaven  is  filling, 
The  cursed,  as  Hell  first  re-echoes  their  fear. 


GO  LAY  THEIR  LITTLE  HEADS  ON  THAT 
HEART. 


George  W.  Bethune.     (Suggested  by  the  bas-relief  of  Thorwaldsen.) 


YES  !  bear  them  to  their  rest  ; 
The  rosy  babe,  tired  with  the  glare  of  day, 
The  prattler,  fallen  asleep  e'en  in  his  play  ; 
Clasp  them  to  thy  soft  breast, 
O  Night ; 
Bless  them  in  dreams  with  a  deep-hushed  delight. 

Yet  must  they  wake  again, 
Wake  soon  to  all  the  bitterness  of  life, 
The  pang  of  sorrow,  the  temptation  strife, 

Ay,  to  the  conscience  pain  : 
O  Night, 
Canst  thou  not  take  with  them  a  longer  flight? 


INHABITANTS    OF   HEAVEN.  3II 

Canst  thou  not  bear  them  far 
E'en  now,  all  innocent,  before  they  know 
The  taint  of  sin,  its  consequence  of  woe, 

The  world's  distracting  jar, 
O  Night, 
To  some  ethereal,  holier,  happier  height? 

Canst  thou  not  bear  them  up, 
Through  starlit  skies,  far  from  this  planet  dim 
And  sorrowful,  e'en  while  they  sleep,  to  Him 

Who  drank  for  us  the  cup, 
O  Night, 
The  cup  of  wrath,  for  hearts  in  faith  contrite  ? 

To  Him,  for  them  who  slept 
A  babe  all  lowly  on  his  mother's  knee, 
And  from  that  hour  to  cross-crowned  Calvary, 

In  all  our  sorrows  wept, 
O  Night, 
That  on  our  souls  might  dawn  Heaven's  cheering  light  ? 

Go,  lay  their  little  heads 
Close  to  that  human  heart,  with  love  divine 
Deep-beating,  while  His  arms  immortal  twine 

Around  them,  as  He  sheds, 
O  Night, 
On  them  a  brother's  grace  of  God's  own  boundless  might. 

Let  them  immortal  wake 
Among  the  deathless  flowers  of  Paradise  ; 
Where  angel  songs  of  welcome  with  surprise 

This  their  last  sleep  may  break, 
O  Night, 
And  to  celestial  joy  their  kindred  souls  invite. 


312  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

There  can  come  no  sorrow  ; 
The  brow  shall  know  no  shade,  the  eye  no  tears, 
For,  ever  young,  through  Heaven's  eternal  years, 

In  one  unfading  morrow, 
O  Night, 
Nor  sin,  nor  age,  nor  pain,  their  cherub  beauty  blight. 

Would  we  could  sleep  as  they, 
So  stainless — and  so  calm — at  rest  with  Thee — 
And  only  wake  in  immortality  ! 

Bear  us  with  them  away, 
O  Night, 
To  that  ethereal,  holier,  happier  height ! 


I  WAIT  TILL  THE  HINGES  TURN  FOR  ME. 


William  Cullen  Bryant. 


BESIDE  a  massive  gateway  built  up  in  years  gone 
by, 

Upon  whose  top  the  clouds  in  eternal  shadow  lie, 
While  streams  the  evening  sunshine  on  quiet  wood  and 

lea, 
I  stand  and  calmly  wait  till  the  hinges  turn  for  me. 

The  tree-tops  faintly  rustle  beneath  the  breeze's  flight, 
A    soft   and  soothing  sound,    yet   it  whispers   of  the 

night ; 
I    hear   the  wood-thrush   piping  one  mellow  descant 

more, 
And  scent  the  flowers  that  blow  when  the  heat  of  day 

is  o'er. 


INHABITANTS   OF   HEAVEN.  313 

Behold  the  portals  open,  and  o'er  the  threshold,  now, 
There  steps  a  wearied  one  with  a  pale  and  furrowed 

brow ; 
His  count  of  years  is  full,  his  allotted  task  is  wrought; 
He  passes  to  his  rest  from  a  place  that  needs  him  not. 

In  sadness  then  I  ponder  how  quickly  fleets  the  hour 
Of  human  strength  and  action,  man's  courage  and  his 

power. 
I  muse  while  still  the    wood-thrush  sings   down    the 

golden  day. 
And  as  I  look  and  listen  the  sadness  wears  away. 

Again  the  hinges  turn,  and  a  youth,  departing,  throws 
A  look  of  longing  backward,  and  sorrowfully  goes  ; 
A  blooming  maid,  unbinding  the  roses  from  her  hair. 
Moves  mournfully  away  from  amidst  the  young  and 
fair. 

Oh  glory  of  our  race  that  so  suddenly  decays  ! 

Oh  cripison  flush  of  morning  that  darkens  as  we  gaze ! 

Oh  breath  of  summer  blossoms  that  on  the    restless 

air 
Scatters  a  moment's  sweetness  and  flies  we  know  not 

where  ! 

I  grieve  for  life's  bright  promise,  just  shown  and  then 

withdrawn ; 
But  still  the  sun  shines  round  me  :  the  evening  bird 

sings  on, 
And  I  again  am  soothed,  and  beside  the  ancient  gate, 
In  the  soft  evening  sunlight,  1  calmly  stand  and  wait. 


314  HEAVEN   rS"  SOXG. 

Once  more  the  gates  are  opened  :  an.  infant  group  go 

oat. 
The   sweet   smile  quenched    forever,  and   stilled   the 

sprightly  shout. 
Oh  firaO.  frail  tree  of  Life,  that  upon  the  green  sward 

stro'ws 
Its  fair  young  buds  unrnened.  with  everv*  wind  that 

blo^! 

So  come  from  every  region :  so  enter,  side  by  side. 

The  strone  and   faint  of  snirit.  the  meek  and  men  of 


::htv.  be: 


A  CC—     Li^'JZJC    Ul1~ 


wav. 


;    :  -  ^  _ - ;  -    - .  .:- : ;.-     rith  joy  in  draw- 

As  if  cne^-  \t  faces,  and  cau'^ht  the  i^radous  eve 

Of  Him.  t/  :5  Teacher,  vv-ho  came  for  us  to  die. 


And  i 

I  h.-  -    -  -- V  wait  till  the  hLn 


INHABITANTS   OF   HEAVEN.  315 


WHENCE  CAME  THAT  MULTITUDE? 


Marianne  Farningham. 


WHENCE  came  that  multitude?     Ah!  they  have 
marched  through  paths  of  flame, 
Where  martyr-fires  have  silenced  tongues  that  called 

on  Jesus'  name — 
From  the  thickest  of  the  battle,  from  the  conflict  sore 

and  long, 
Where  the  trembling  heart  grew  feeble,  where  the  foes 

were  fierce  and  strong  : 
From   the  scorching  sands  of  desert-lands ;    from  the 

ever-frozen  isles — 
Yes,  they  have  come   from    tears   and   sighs,  to    the 

brighter  land  of  smiles. 

Whence  came  the  multitude  ?  They  came  from  homes 
that  Death  had  riven  ; 

From  dreary,  vacant,  joyless  hearths,  from  which  all 
light  was  driven  ; 

They  are  mothers,  whose  fond  gentle  hearts  were  bit- 
terly bereaved  ; 

They  are  fathers,  husbands,  left  alone,  with  spirits 
sorely  grieved : 

They  are  crushed,  forsaken,  mourning  ones — but  now, 
in  perfect  peace, 

They  sing  the  song  of  the  Redeemed,  where  woe  for 
aye  shall  cease. 


l6  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


Whence  came  the  radiant  multitude,  amid  the  bHss 
above  ? 

They  came  from  dim  and  shaded  Hves  of  unrequited 
love  : 

From  yearnings  long  unsatisfied,  unanswered  question- 
ings ; 

From  brooding  o'er  th'  uncertainty  of  all  their  precious 
things : 

From  sorrow,  sickness,  death  itself,  the  spirits  freed 
have  come 

To  bask  them  in  the  love  and  light  of  that  eternal 
home. 

And  we,  along  the  well-worn  track,  our  long,  dark  jour- 
ney take, 

Longing,  with  aching  hearts,  to  rest  in  heaven  for 
Jesus'  sake  ; 

Yet,  let  us  shrink  not  from  the  way  so  many  trod  be- 
fore. 

If  we  may  join  that  multitude,  when  all  our  toils  are  o'er; 

But  welcome  tribulation,  if,  at  last,  our  feet  it  bring 

Safe  o'er  the  threshold  of  that  home — to  the  presence 
of  the  King. 

*'  I  am  the  Lord  that  healeth  thee."     We  know  thee, 

O  our  Friend  ; 
Stay  with  us  in  thy  mighty  power  till  every  grief  shall 

end. 
We  thank  thee  for  the  wounds  thou  send'st,  for  'tis  so 

sweet  to  be 
The  weary,  weeping,  wounded  ones,  so  sweetly  healed 

bv  Thcc. 


INHABITANTS   OF   HEAVEN.  317 


GO  NOT  TO  HEAVEN  ALONE? 


Thomas  C.  Upham. 


HIGH  on  the  hills  the  wild  bird  hath  its  nest, 
And  utters  loud  its  melodies  of  song  ; 
But  vain  its  music,  if  no  other  breast 

Is  there  to  mate  it,  and  its  notes  prolong. 

And  so  in  heaven,  think  not  to  dwell  alone, 

In  cold  and  hopeless  solitude  apart ; 
For  heaven  is  love  ;  and  love  would  leave  its  throne, 

If  at  its  side  there  were  no  other  heart. 

Then  heavenward  soar,  but  carry  others  there. 
And  learn  that  heaven  is  giving  and  receiving, 

It  hath  no  life  which  others  do  not  share. 
Its  life  doth  live  by  its  great  art  of  giving. 

Heaven  is  the  heart  to  other  love-hearts  beating; 

'Tis  open  arms,  to  arms  of  fondness  rushing  ; 
'Tis  songs,  with  other  songs  in  concert  meeting ; 

'Tis  fountains  into  other  fountains  gushing. 


3l8  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


WE  ASK  NOT  WHAT  THE  JOY  SHALL  BE. 


Anonymous. 


It  doth  not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be  ;  but  we  know  that  when  He  doth  appear 
we  shall  be  like  Him  ;  for  we  shall  see  Him  as  He  is." 

OH  !  beams  there,  Lord,  upon  Thine  own 
Of  that  bright  Heaven  no  vision  clear? 
Oh  !  stays  the  glory  all  unknown 

Thou  keepest  for  Thy  children  dear  ? 

Lord,  Thou  hast  shown  that  Son  of  Thine ! 

No  more  we  seek,  no  more  we  sigh  : 
On  earth  hath  beamed  His  Face  Divine, 

'Twill  make  our  blessedness  on  high. 

Ye  heavenly  joys,  remain  unknown  ! 

Ye  splendors,  cease  not  to  be  dim  ! 
Our  Brother  shines  amidst  the  throne  : 

Our  Brother  sways  the  Seraphim. 

We  ask  not  what  the  joy  will  be, 

Secure  to  find  our  Saviour  there. 
O  Heaven  of  Heavens  His  face  to  see  ! 

O  bliss  past  thought  His  smile  to  share  ! 

We  tread  His  Heaven,  our  earth  who  trod  ; 

We  wear  His  robes,  our  flesh  who  wore  : 
O  Son  of  Man!  O  Son  of  God, 

Thou  art  our  own :  we  ask  no  more  ! 


INHABITANTS   OF   HEAVEN.  3I9 


A  VISION  OF  THE  DOOM. 


Gerard   Moultrie.     Translated  by  John  Mason  Nealb. 


WHO  are  they  the  Crown  who  win, 
Freed  from  sorrow,  cleansed  from  sin. 
Meet  before  the  throne  to  stand  ? 
Where  are  they,  the  sons  of  GOD, 
Ready  for  the  blest  abode 
Of  the  heavenly  Fatherland  } 

Roll  away  the  clouds  of  Death, 

Gaze  beyond  the  shore  of  Time  ; 
Raise  your  eyes  from  Earth  beneath, 

From  the  coasts  of  sin  and  crime, 
To  God's  high  scat: 
See  the  Zenith  blaze,  and  roll 

Thunder-folded  like  a  scroll 
In  fervent  heat  ; 
Till  your  fearful  eyes  may  scan. 

On  the  clouds  of  Heaven  descending, 
The  signal  of  the  Son  of  Man, 
Time  and  Time's  dominion  ending. 

The  trumpet  sounds  ! 
Far  away  the  echoes  roar, 
Moaning  on  from  shore  to  shore. 
In  the  distance  far  away, 
Far  away  : 


320  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

As  the  Archangel  of  the  Doom, 
Standing  on  the  thunder-cloud, 

Calls  the  muster  of  the  tomb 
With  his  fanfare  long  and  loud. 
For  the  tenants  of  the  clay. 
From  the  clay. 

Come  forth  !  come  forth ! 
Quick  and  dead,  come  forth,  and  stand 
In  your  ranks  on  either  hand, 

From  the  teeming  womb  of  earth, 

To  hear  your  fate  : 
Earth's  full  girdle  shrivel  must 
As  ye  claim  your  native  dust. 
Held  till  now  by  her  in  trust, 

The  call  to  wait. 

The  great  white  throne 
Of  the  Eternal  CHRIST  is  set  ; 

The  books  are  opened,  which  must  seal 

For  everlasting  woe  or  weal 
The  doom  of  each.     All  heaven  is  met 

Before  the  Archangel's  trumpet  peal : 
The  six-winged  Seraphim, 
The  many-eyed  Cherubim, 

Thrones  and  Dominations,  Powers, 
All  the  shining  host  of  Heaven, 
White-winged  as  the  fair  snow  driven 

When  the  wintry  tempest  lowers: 
Far  away,  till  lost  to  sight, 
Spread  their  squadrons  infinite. 

Pouring  from  the  blest  abode 


INHABITANTS   OF   HEAVEN.  32I 

In  their  armor  keen  and  bright — 
Flashing  from  the  Light  of  Light, 
Breaking  up  the  shades  of  night, 
Advance  the  body-guard  of  GOD  ! 

The  Judge  of  all 

Is  seated.     In  his  hand  he  bears 

The  sceptred  Cross  of  Calvary  ; 

The  ruby  drops  of  blood  still  fall, 

And  jewel  with  their  crimson  dye 

The  Universal  Monarch's  ball, 
Won  by  his  human  agony  and  tears, 
When  the  GOD-Man  the  way  of  sorrows  trod, — 
Regalia  of  the  Passion  of  our  GOD. 

A  cry  of  misery, 
A  voice  of  lamentation  low  and  dread 
As  the  deep  organ-note  in  minster  high, 
When  men  sing  requiem  for  the  coffined  dead. 
Throbs  through  the  boundless  nations  of  the  lost, 

Despairing,  deep. 
Countless  in  number  as  the  yellow  sand 
Ribbed  by  the  embraces  of  the  Northern  sea 
When  wintry  waves  come  bounding  on  the  coast, 
With  breath  suspended  in  calm  trance  they  stand, 
And  eyeballs  fixed  in  sightless  lethargy, 
As  men  who  dare  not  doubt  that  hope  is  fled, 
Yet  hear  their  sentence  as  in  dream  hell-sped 

Of  restless  sleep : 
They  have  no  heart  to  weep, 

When  the  once  loving  CHRIST  lays  down  his  love. 
As  to  the  left  he  waves  them  with  his  hand, — 
21 


322  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

*'  Depart,  accursed,  to  your  chosen  lot, 

The  fire  that  is  not  quenched,  the  worm  that  dieth  not. 

A  breath  of  harmony 

Touched  by  celestial  fire, 
Like  the  low  whisper  of  the  ^olian  lyre, 
First  faint,  then  swelling  louder  in  sweet  tone 
Mounts  up  around  the  everlasting  throne 

From  the  white-vested  choir  ; 

A  hymn  of  wakening  praise. 
Which  now  the  Elect  of  Christ  the  King  upraise, 
Who  see  all  doubt  depart  with  endless  life  begun. 

Who  are  they  who  win  the  prize  ? 

Spirits  of  the  perfect  just, 
Who  in  shock  of  battle  stood 

In  the  tumult  and  the  dust, 
In  the  forefront  of  the  fight : 
They  have  washed  their  robes  in  blood, 
And  have  made  them  pure  and  white 

For  their  heavenly  Captain's  eyes : 
These  are  they  the  prize  who  win, 
To  God's  joy  they  enter  in. 

Glory  to  the  bleeding  brow  ! 

Glory  to  the  bleeding  heart ! 
Glory  for  the  souls  who  know 

What  the  prize,  nor  heed  the  smart  ; 
They  have  counted  well  the  cost, 

Worldly  poverty  and  shame: 
All  is  won  and  nought  is  lost 

If  they  suffer  for  his  Name. 


INHABITANTS   OF    HEAVEN.  323 

Peace  he  leaves  ;  his  peace  is  given, 

Not  of  earth  he  gives  to  them, 
But  he  gives  the  peace  of  Heaven 

In  the  New  Jerusalem. 

Bright  the  everlasting  day 

From  the  throne  of  GOD  hath  beamed, 
With  its  never-fading  ray, 

On  the  ranks  of  the  Redeemed; 
Onward  they  haste ! 
In  the  armor  of  the  LORD, 
Shield  of  Faith,  and  Spirit's  sword 
Salvation's  helmet,  sure  and  through, 
Borne  on  high  the  onset  true, 
Breastplate  firm  of  Righteousness, 
Which  has  stood  the  strain  and  stress 

Of  the  furious  battle-blast. 

A  thousand  times  ten  thousand  bow 

In  adoration  to  the  throne ; 
The  books  are  shut,  and  now  they  know 

Their  hope,  their  joy,  is  all  their  own. 
A  myriad  voice  of  melody 
Swelling  up  to  GoD  on  high 

Fills  the  vales  of  Paradise, 
Circling  round  the  Eternal  Feet, 
Multitudinous  and  sweet. 

Saint  to  saint  in  rapture  calling, 
As  they  know  their  friends  once  more ; 

In  sweet  cadeace  rising,  falling, 

Full  and  slumbrous  as  the  voice 


324  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Of  many  waters  on  the  shore, 
Where  tempests  vex  not  evermore — 
For  Time  is  gone,  and  now  is  nigh 
Eternity. 


BRIGHT  GLORY  RESTING  ON  THY  BROW. 

DOWN  to  the  margin  of  the  shadowy  river, 
Thy  feet  are  pressing  now  ; 
And  the  bright  glory  from  the  upper  temple 

Is  resting  on  thy  brow. 
Soon  shall  the  hand  that  mine  so  oft  has  folded 

Sweep  o'er  a  harp  of  gold  ; 
And  thy  worn  feet,  with  all  their  wanderings  ended, 
Rest  in  the  Master's  fold. 

But  I  shall  be  so  lonely.     When  the  morning 

Breaks  up  in  one  glad  wave 
How  dim  its  light  shall  seem,  because  its  shining 

Falleth  across  thy  grave  ! 
And    when    the    stars   are    dead    along   the    brow    of 
Heaven, 

And  gathering  tempests  moan, 
My  heart  shall  echo  back  their  bitter  wailing. 

For  I  shall  be  alone. 

No  more  my  friend.     The  angel  bands  have  won  thee. 

And  far  from  earth's  regret, 
In  the  bright  city  with  its  many  mansions 

Thou  wilt  at  last  forget — 


INHABITANTS    OF    HEAVEN.  325 

Forget  the  heart  that  in  its  holiest  holy 

Enshrines  thee  all  life's  years  ; 
Forget  the  eyes  so  wearily  uplooking 

Through  mists  of  gathering  tears. 

And  yet  farewell ;  I  will  not  seek  to  keep  thee, 

But  let  life's  severed  bands 
Draw  my  oppressed  and  fainting  spirit  nearer 

Its  house  not  made  with  hands. 
And  when  beside  my  lonely  hearthstone  kneeling 

I  hush  my  heart  for  prayer, 
Nearer  shall  seem  that  bright,  celestial  city 

Because  thou  dwellest  there. 


SEE  A  LONG  RACE  THY  COURTS  ADORN. 


Alexander   Pope. 


RISE,  crowned  with  light,  imperial  Salem,  rise, 
Exalt  thy  towery  head,  and  lift  thy  eyes  ! 
See  a  long  race  thy  spacious  courts  adorn  ; 
See  future  sons  and  daughters,  yet  unborn, 
In  crowding  ranks  on  every  side  arise. 
Demanding  life,  impatient  for  the  skies ! 
See  barbarous  nations  at  thy  gate  attend, 
Walk  in  thy  light,  and  in  thy  temple  bend  ; 
See  thy  bright  altars  thronged  with  prostrate  kings, 
And  heaped  with  products  of  Sabean  springs  ! 
For  thee,  Idume's  spicy  forests  blow. 
And  seeds  of  gold  in  Ophir's  mountains  glow. 


326  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

See  Heaven  its  sparkling  portals  wide  display, 

And  break  upon  thee  in  a  flood  of  day. 

No  more  the  rising  sun  shall  gild  the  morn, 

Nor  evening  Cynthia  fill  her  silver  horn  ; 

But  lost,  dissolved  in  thy  superior  rays, 

One  tide  of  glory,  one  unclouded  blaze 

O'erflow  thy  courts;  the  Light  Himself  shall  shine 

Revealed,  and  God's  eternal  day  be  thine  ! 

The  seas  shall  waste,  the  skies  in  smoke  decay. 

Rocks  fall  to  dust,  and  mountains  melt  away ; 

But  fixed  His  word,  His  saving  power  remains  ; 

Thy  realm  forever  lasts,  thy  own  Messiah  reigns. 


WHEN  YOUR  FLESH  DISSOLVES  TO  DUST. 


Thomas  Ken. 


And  I  say  unto  you,  That  many  shall  come  from  the  east  and  west,  and  shall  sil 
down  with  Abraham,  and  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 

SOUL,  when  your  flesh  dissolves  to  dust, 
To  God's  safe  Hands  yourself  entrust ; 
Be  not  too  curious  to  inquire. 

Where  to  aspire ; 

Whether  to  Paradise  you  fly, 

Or  in  bless'd  Abraham's  bosom  lie. 

Or  to  that  orb  your  flight  you  raise 

Where  Enoch  stays ; 


INHABITANTS   OF    HEAVEN.  327 

Or  to  the  third  celestial  sphere, 
Where  wonders  Paul  was  rapt  to  hear, 
Or  Hades  bless'd  where  souls  elect 

Full  bliss  expect. 

Secure  your  Love  while  here  below, 

And  dying  you'll  to  Jesus  go  ; 

Paul  long'd  loved  Jesus'  face  to  view, 

For  that  long  you. 

Bless'd  Jesus'  boundless  bliss  Divine 
In  you  in  miniature  will  shine, 
Glory  for  glory,  beam  for  beam 

Will  on  you  stream. 

A  crown,  a  throne  at  God's  right  Hand. 
Where  Saints  their  robes  of  ray  expand, 
Where  Saints  are  kings,  and  on  their  state 
High  Angels  wait. 

Such  blessings  on  the  Saints  attend, 
When  Jesus-like  they  Heaven  ascend, 
The  Lamb,  of  joys  the  boundless  spring. 
They'll  ever  sing. 

Death  our  forerunner  is,  and  guides 
To  Sion,  where  the  Lamb  abides. 
There  Saints  enjoy  ecstatic  rest 

In  mansions  blest. 

Death,  I  well  know,  that  every  day 
Wise  Providence  appoints  your  way. 
Your  thirst  for  blood  would  slay  mankind. 
If  not  confined. 


328  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

I  long  to  reach  the  Lamb's  dear  sight, 
Be  sure  to  hit  my  vitals  right, 
Lest  life  half  left  prolongs  my  days 

And  bliss  delays. 


OH,  WITH  WHAT  CONGRATULATIONS. 

OH,  with  what  congratulations 
Throng  thy  gates  the  festive  nations ; 
What  the  warmth  of  their  embracing  ! 
What  the  gems  thy  wall  enchasing ! 
Through  that  city's  streets  are  wending 
Holy  throngs,  their  anthems  blending. 
There  may  I,  with  myriads  glorious, 
Chant  thy  praise  in  psalms  victorious. 


CLAD  IN  GARMENTS  RADIANT  WHITE. 


Archibald  Edmonstone, 


WHO  is  it  clad  in  garments  radiant  white, 
Love  on  her  breastplate  graven,  on  her  brow 
Salvation  diademed?     Above,  below, 
Ten  thousand  thousand  Spirits  wing  their  flight, 
A  shining  company.     With  glory  bright 
The  army  of  Martyrs  circle,  which  through  woe 
And  peril,  pain,  and  death,  dared  face  the  foe, 
Bearing  their  palms,  with  victor-chaplets  dight. 


INHABITANTS   OF   HEAVEN.  329 

In  mild  but  awful  majesty,  to  meet 
The  Bride  comes  forth  the  Bridegroom,  in  the  skies 
Enthroning  on  her  everlasting  seat. 
From  myriad  Voices  shouts  of  triumph  rise  : 
"  Her  warfare  is  accomplished  ;  at  her  feet 
Fallen  is  the  captive's  chain — the  conqueror  prostrate 
lies  !  "' 


GOD  KEEPS  A  NICHE  IN  HEAVEN. 


From  Sonnets,  by  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning. 


AND  O  beloved  voices,  upon  which 
Ours  passionately  call,  because  ere  long 
Ye  brake  off  in  the  middle  of  that  song 
We  sang  together  softly,  to  enrich 
The  poor  world  with  the  sense  of  love  and  with 
The  heart  out  of  things  evil, — I  am  strong, 
Knowing  ye  are  not  lost  for  aye  among 
The  hills,  with  last  year's  thrush.     God  keeps  a  niche 
In  Heaven,  to  hold  our  idols:  and  albeit 
He  brake  them  to  our  faces,  and  denied 
That  our  close  kisses  should  impair  their  white, — 
I  know  we  shall  behold  them  raised,  complete, 
The  dust  swept  from  their  beauty, — glorified 
New  Memnons  singing  in  the  great  God-light. 


33^  liEAVEN    IN   SONG. 


OH,  GIVE  THEM  AGAIN  TO  ME, 


Marianne  Farningham. 


•'  Father,  I  will  that  they  also  whom  thou  hast  given  me  may  be  with  me  where 

I  am." 

I  AM  pressing  on  to  the  slippery  shore 
With  my  sore  and  weary  feet, 
But  a  Httle  while  and  I  hope  to  stand 

At  the  edge  of  the  Golden  street. 
But  I  pray  this  prayer  from  amid  the  deep — 

O  Saviour  of  sinners,  bring 
Those  whom  I  love  to  abide  with  me 
In  the  presence  of  the  King, 

There  are  warm  young  hearts  in  the  household  band  ; 

There  are  brightly  beaming  eyes  ; 
There  are  voices  sweet  that  I  fain  would  hear 

'Mid  the  anthems  of  the  skies: 
Thou  knowest,  O  Jesus,  how  closely  here 

The  bonds  of  love  entwine  ; 
I  count  them  o'er  in  the  gloaming  hour, 

And  remember  these  words  of  Thine. 

There  are  trembling  fingers  and  silvery  hairs, 

And  eyes  that  are  growing  dim, 
And  voices  less  strong  than  in  days  of  yore. 

Swelling  the  evening  hymn. 


INHABITANTS   OF   HEAVEN.  33I 

I  would  not  miss  them  at  home  in  heaven  ; 

O  Jesus,  who  gave  them  me, 
May  I  have  them  again  in  the  land  of  peace, 

In  the  home  by  the  glassy  sea  ? 

When  the  golden  crowns  at  my  feet  are  cast, 

May  they  be  among  the  band  ; 
When  the  hymn  is  swelling  o'er  heavenly  hills, 

Let  them  with  the  harpers  stand. 
It  cannot 'be  that  the  dearest  ones 

Shall  depart  in  the  day  of  strife  ; 
It  cannot  be  that  the  loves  of  earth, 

Shall  die  in  the  day  of  life. 

"I  would  that  my  dear  ones  might  all  be  brought 

To  the  feet  of  the  Crucified  ; 
Might  be  carried  to  Him  when  borne  away 

By  the  coldly  rolling  tide. 
But  man  is  weak,  although  love  be  strong, 

And  I  can  but  look  to  Thee, 
And  pray  as  Thou  prayedst  in  Thine  agony, 

Oh,  give  them  again  to  me  ! 


THE  INNUMERABLE  GREETING. 


Edward  Henry  Bickersteth. 


AND  lo,  Upon  the  extreme  verge  of  cloud 
As  once  at  Eden's  portals  there  appear'd 
A  company  of  angels  clothed  in  light, 
Thronging  the  path  or  in  the  amber  air 


332  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

Suspense.     And  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye 
We  were  among  them  and  they  cluster'd  round 
And  waved  their  wings,  and  struck  their  harps  again 
For  gladness  :  every  look  was  tenderness, 
And  every  word  was  musical  with  joy. 

"  Welcome  to  heaven,  dear  brother,  welcome  home. 
Welcome  to  thy  inheritance  of  light ! 
Welcome  forever  to  thy  Master's  joy  ! 
Thy  work  is  done,  thy  pilgrimage  is  past ; 
Thy  guardian  angel's  vigil  is  fulfilled  ; 
Thy  parents  wait  thee  in  the  bowers  of  bliss  ; 
Thy  infant  babes  have  woven  wreaths  for  thee ; 
Thy  brethren  who  have  enter'd  into  rest 
Long  for  thy  coming ;  and  the  angel  choirs 
Are  ready  with  their  symphonies  of  praise. 
Nor  shall  thy  voice  be  mute :  a  golden  harp 
For  thee  is  hanging  on  the  trees  of  life  ; 
And  sweetly  shall  its  chords  forever  ring, 
Responsive  to  thy  touch  of  ecstasy, 
With  Hallelujahs  to  thy  Lord  and  ours." 

So  sang  they ;  and  that  vast  defile  of  clouds 
Re-echoed  with  the  impulses  of  song 
And  music,  and  the  atmosphere  serene 
Throbb'd  with  innumerable  greetings. 


INHABITANTS    OF   HEAVEN.  333 


O  HAPPY  SAINTS  WHO    DWELL    IN    LIGHT. 


John  Berridge. 


O  HAPPY  saints  who  dwell  in  light, 
And  walk  with  Jesus,  clothed  in  white  ; 
Safe  landed  on  that  peaceful  shore, 
Where  pilgrims  meet  to  part  no  more. 

Released  from  sin,  and  toil,  and  grief, 
Death  was  their  gate  to  endless  life, — 
An  opened  cage,  to  let  them  fly 
And  build  their  happy  nest  on  high. 

And  now  they  range  the  heavenly  plains. 
And  sing  their  hymns  in  melting  strains  ; 
And  now  their  souls  begin  to  prove 
The  height  and  depth  of  Jesus'  love. 

He  cheers  them  with  eternal  smile  ; 
They  sing  hosannas  all  the  while, 
Or,  overwhelmed  with  raptures  sweet. 
Sink  down  adoring  at  his  feet. 

Ah,  Lord,  with  tardy  steps  I  creep. 
And  sometimes  sing,  and  sometimes  weep  ; 
Yet  strip  me  of  this  house  of  clay. 
And  I  will  sing  as  loud  as  they. 


334  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


MY  SAVIOUR  WHOM  ABSENT  I  LOVE. 


William  Cowper. 


MY  Saviour  whom  absent  I  love, 
Whom  not  having  seen  I  adore, 
Whose  name  is  exalted  above 
All  glory,  dominion  and  power. 

Dissolve  Thou  those  bands  that  detain 
My  soul  from  her  portion  in  Thee, 

Ah,  strike  off  this  adamant  chain, 
And  make  me  eternally  free. 

When  that  happy  era  begins, 

When  arrayed  in  Thy  glories  I  shine, 

Nor  grieve  any  more,  by  my  sins, 
The  bosom  on  which  I  recline  ; 

Oh  then  shall  the  veil  be  removed. 

And  round  me  Thy  brightness  be  poured  ; 

I  shall  meet  Him  Whom  absent  I  loved, 
I  shall  see  Whom  unseen  I  adored. 


INHABITANTS   OF   HEAVEN.  335 


TO    BE    WITH    CHRIST    WHICH    IS    FAR 
BETTER. 


Charles  Wesley. 


OH  when  shall  we  sweetly  remove, 
Oh  when  shall  we  enter  our  rest, 
Return  to  the  Zion  above, 

The  mother  of  spirits  distrest ; 
That  city  of  God  the  great  King, 

Where  sorrow  and  death  are  no  more, 
Where  saints  our  Immanuel  sing, 
And  cherub  and  seraph  adore? 

Thou  know'st  in^the  spirit  of  prayer 

We  long  Thy  appearing  to  see, 
Resigned  to  the  burden  we  bear, 

But  longing  to  triumph  with  Thee : 
'Tis  good  at  Thy  word  to  be  here  ; 

'Tis  better  in  Thee  to  be  gone, 
And  see  Thee  in  glory  appear, 

And  rise  to  a  share  in  Thy  throne. 

To  mourn  for  Thy  coming  is  sweet, 
To  weep  at  Thy  longer  delay  ; 

But  Thou,  whom  we  hasten  to  meet, 
Shalt  chase  all  our  sorrows  away. 


33^  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

The  tears  shall  be  wiped  from  our  eyes 
When  Thee  we  behold  in  the  cloud, 

And  echo  the  joys  of  the  skies, 
And  shout  to  the  trumpet  of  God. 


WILL  ANY  BE  WATCHING  FOR  ME? 


From  Poems  of  Home  Life, 


W  7 HEN  mysterious  whispers  are  floating  about, 

V  V     And  voices  that  will  not  be  still 
Shall  summon  me  hence  from  the  slippery  shore 

To  the  waves  that  are  silent  and  still ; 
When  I  look  with  changed  eyes  at  the  home  of  the 
blest, 
Far  out  of  the  reach  of  the  sea, 
Will  any  one  stand  at  that  beautiful  gate 
Waiting  and  watching  for  me  ? 

There  are  friendless  and  suffering  strangers  around, 

There  are  tempted  and  poor  I  must  meet  ; 
There  are  dear  ones  at  home  I  may  bless  with  my  love, 

There  are  wretched  ones  pacing  the  street  ; 
There  are  many  unthought  of,  whom,  happy  and  blest 

In  the  land  of  the  good  I  shall  see  : 
Will  any  of  these  at  the  beautiful  gate 

Be  waiting  and  watching  for  me? 

There  are  old  and  forsaken,  who  linger  awhile 
In  the  homes  which  their  dearest  have  left, 

And  an  action  of  love  and  a  few  gentle  words 
Might  cheer  the  sad  spirit  bereft  ; 


IXHABITANTS   OF   HEAVEN.  337 

But  the  reaper  is  near  to  the  long-standing  corn, 

The  weary  shall  soon  be  set  free  ; 
Will  any  of  these  at  the  beautiful  gate 

Be  waiting  and  watching  for  me  ? 

There  are  little  ones  glancing  about  on  my  path 

In  need  of  a  friend  or  a  guide  ; 
There  are  dim  little  eyes  looking  up  into  mine, 

Whose  tears  could  be  easily  dried  ; 
But  Jesus  may  beckon  the  children  away 

In  the  midst  of  their  grief  or  their  glee  : 
Will  any  of  them  at  the  beautiful  gate 

Be  watching  and  waiting  for  me? 

I  may  be  brought  there  by  the  manifold  grace 

Of  the  Saviour  who  loved  to  forgive, 
Though  I  bless  not  the  hungry  ones  near  to  my  side, 

Only  pray  for  myself  while  I  live  ; 
But  I  think  I  should  mourn  o'er  my  selfish  neglect. 

If  sorrow  in  heaven  can  be. 
If  no  one  should  stand  at  that  beautiful  gate 

Waiting  and  watching  for  me  ! 


GIVE  ME  THE  WINGS  OF  FAITH, 


Isaac  Watts. 


GIVE  me  the  wings  of  faith  to  rise 
Within  the  veil,  and  see 
The  saints  above,  how  great  their  joys, 
How  bright  their  glories  be. 

22 


338  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

Once  they  were  mourning  here  below, 
And  bathed  their  couch  with  tears  ; 

They  wrestled  hard,  as  we  do  now, 
With  sins,  and  doubts,  and  fears. 

I  ask  them  whence  their  victory  came  ; 

They,  with  united  breath, 
Ascribe  their  conquest  to  the  Lamb, 

Their  triumph  to  His  death. 

They  marked  the  footsteps  that  He  trod 
His  zeal  inspired  their  breast ; 

And,  following  their  incarnate  God, 
Possessed  the  promised  rest. 

Our  glorious  Leader  claims  our  praise. 
For  His  own  pattern  given  ; 

While  the  long  cloud  of  witnesses 
Show  the  same  path  to  heaven. 


LAMBS  OF  THE  UPPER  FOLD. 

MID  the  pastures  green  of  the  blessed  isles, 
Where  never  is  heat  or  cold, 
Where  the  light  of  life  is  the  Shepherd's  smile. 

Are  the  lambs  of  the  Upper  Fold. 
Where  the  lilies  blossom  in  fadeless  spring, 

And  never  a  heart  grows  old, 
Where  the  glad  new  song  is  the  song  they  sing. 
Are  the  lambs  of  the  Upper  Fold. 


INHABITANTS    OF   HEAVEN.  339 

There  are  tiny  mounds  where  the  hopes  of  earth, 

Were  laid  'neath  the  tear-wet  mould, 
But  the  light  that  paled  at  the  stricken  hearth, 

Was  joy  to  the  Upper  Fold  : 
Oh,  the  white  stone  beareth  a  new  name  now, 

That  never  on  earth  was  told. 
And  the  tender  Shepherd  doth  guard  with  care 

The  lambs  of  the  Upper  Fold. 


FATHER,  I  LONG,  I  FAINT. 


Isaac  Watts. 


FATHER,  I  long,  I  faint  to  see 
The  place  of  thine  abode  ; 
I'd  leave  Thy  earthly  courts  and  flee 
Up  to  Thy  seat,  my  God  ! 

Here  I  behold  Thy  distant  face, 

And  'tis  a  pleasing  sight  ; 
But  to  abide  in  Thine  embrace 

Is  infinite  delight. 

I'd  part  with  all  the  joys  of  sense 
To  gaze  upon  Thy  throne  ; 

Pleasure  springs  fresh  forever  thence, 
Unspeakable,  unknown. 

There  all  the  heavenly  hosts  are  seen, 
In  shining  ranks  they  move, 

And  drink  immortal  vigor  in 
With  wonder  and  with  love. 


340  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

There  at  thy  feet  with  awful  fear 

The  adoring  armies  fall ; 
With  joy  they  shrink  to  nothing  there, 

Before  the  eternal  All. 

The  more  Thy  glories  strike  my  eyes, 

The  humbler  I  shall  lie ; 
Thus,  while  I  sink,  my  joys  shall  rise 

Unmeasurably  high. 


OUR  EVERLASTING  PORTION. 


Thomas  H.  Gill. 

Whom  have  I  in  Heaven  but  Thee,  and  whom  on  earth  do  I  desire  in  comparison 
with  Thee  ? " 

I   HAIL  you  not,  Mansions  Divine, 
Because  ye  are  peaceful  and  fair ; 
Your  builder,  your  Master  is  mine ; 
My  Father,  my  Saviour  is  there. 
I  cleave  not  to  you,  angels  bright, 
But  to  Him  who  filleth  the  throne  ; 
In  Thee,  Lord,  in  Thee  I  delight, 
Thou,  Thou  art  mine  All,  art  mine  own. 

Yes,  Lover  Divine,  Thou  art  loved, 
Yes  Lord  of  my  heart.  Thou  art  dear  ; 
Even  now  this  cold  bosom  is  moved ; 
Thy  presence  is  sweet  even  here  ; 
Still,  still  through  the  long  mortal  years 
Thou  makest  with  me  Thine  abode 
And  still  this  dark  Valley  of  Tears 
So  bright  with  the  smile  of  my  God. 


INHABITANTS   OF    HEAVEN.  34I 

My  friends  true  and  tender  have  been 
But  only  in  Thee  am  I  blest  : 
'Tis  sweet  on  their  bosoms  to  lean 
'Tis  sweetest  to  lean  on  Thy  breast 
From  creatures  most  gracious  and  bright 
To  the  Lord  of  my  heart  still  I  turn  ; 
In  fullness  of  earthly  delight 
For  the  Heavenly  Lover  I  yearn. 

My  God  !  ^rt  Thou  dear  even  now  ? 
My  Sun  !  dost  Thou  shine  even  here  ? 
Then  how  will  my  joy  in  Thee  grow 
When  thou  dost  in  glory  appear ; 
When  close  to  Thy  brightness  I  come, 
And  set  my  rapt  gaze  on  Thy  face 
And  sweetly  enjoy  Thee  at  home 
And  glow  in  Thine  endless  embrace  ! 

For  ever  that  Presence  of  Thine 
Makes  blissful  the  Heavenly  Abode  ; 
Thy  saints  and  Thy  seraphim  shine, 
But  only  with  light  from  my  God. 
Thy  beauty  in  them  will  be  sweet ; 
Thy  glory  will  link  them  to  me  : 
And  still  my  glad  soul  will  repeat 
'*  Whom  have  I  in  Heaven  but  Thee?" 


k 


342  HKAVEN   IN   SONG. 


OH  THE  DELIGHTS,  THE  HEAVENLY  JOYS. 

Isaac  Watts. 


OH  the  delights,  the  heavenly  joys, 
The  glories  of  the  place. 
Where  Jesus  sheds  the  brightest  beams 
Of  His  o'erflowing  grace  ! 

Sweet  majesty  and  awful  love 

Sit  smiling  on  His  brow. 
And  all  the  glorious  rank  above 

At  humble  distance  bow. 

Princes  to  His  imperial  name 

Bend  their  bright  sceptres  down  ; 

Dominions,  thrones,  and  powers  rejoice 
To  see  Him  wear  the  crown. 

Archangels  sound  His  lofty  praise 
Through  every  heavenly  street, 

And  lay  their  highest  honors  down 
Submissive  at  His  feet. 

Those  soft,  those  blessed  feet  of  His, 

That  once  rude  iron  tore, 
High  on  a  throne  of  light  they  stand 

And  all  the  saints  adore. 

His  head,  the  dear,  majestic  head, 
That  cruel  thorns  did  wound. 

See  what  immortal  glories  shine 
And  circle  it  around  ! 


INHABITANTS   OF    HEAVEN.  343 

This  is  the  man,  th'  exalted  man, 

Whom  we,  unseen,  adore  ; 
But  when  our  eyes  behold  his  face, 

Our  hearts  shall  love  him  more. 

Lord,  how  our  souls  are  all  on  fire 

To  see  Thy  blest  abode  ; 
Our  tongues  rejoice  in  tunes  of  praise 

To  our  incarnate  God  ! 

And  while  our  faith  enjoys  this  sight, 

We  long  to  leave  our  clay. 
And  with  Thy  fiery  chariots,  Lord, 

To  fetch  our  souls  away ! 


YE  WHOE'ER  FOR  CHRIST  ARE  SEEKING. 


From  the  Latin  of  Prudentius. 


YE  whoe'er  for  Christ  are  seeking, 
Lift  your  longing  eyes  on  high  ; 
There  behold  the  glory  breaking 
Of  celestial  majesty. 

Bright  the  vision  there  unveiling. 
With  unbounded  lustre  bright, 

High,  sublime,  and  never  failing. 
Elder  than  primeval  light. 

He  is  King  all  realms  to  gather, 
King  whom  Israel's  tribes  obey, 

Promised  to  His  people's  father, 
Abraham,  and  his  seed  for  aye. 


344  HEAVEN    IN    SONG. 

Seers  to  Him  high  witness  breathing, 
Seal  their  words  with  love  and  fear  ; 

Him  th'  eternal  Sire  bequeathing, 
Bids  His  own  believe  and  hear. 


OFT  WEEPING  MEMORY  SITS  ALONE, 


Henry   Harbaugh. 


OFT  weeping  memory  sits  alone 
Beside  some  grave  at  even, 
And  calls  upon  some  spirit  flown  ; 
O  say,  shall  those  on  earth  our  own 
Be  ours  again  in  heaven  ? 

Shall  friends  who  o'er  the  waste  of  life 

By  the  same  storms  are  driven, — 
Shall  they  recount  in  realms  of  bliss 
The  fortunes  and  the  tears  of  this. 
And  love  again  in  heaven  ? 

When  hearts  which  have  on  earth  been  one 

By  ruthless  death  are  riven, 
Why  does  the  one  which  death  has  reft 
Drag  off  in  grief  the  one  that's  left, 

If  not  to  meet  in  heaven  ? 

The  warmest  love  on  earth  is  still 

Imperfect  when  'tis  given  ; 
But  there's  a  purer  clime  above, 
Where  perfect  hearts  in  perfect  love 

Unite,  and  this  is  heaven. 


INHABITANTS    OF   HEAVEN.  345 

If  love  on  earth  is  but  ''  in  part," 

As  light  and  shade  at  even, 
If  sin  doth  plant  a  thorn  between 
The  truest  hearts,  there  is,  I  ween, 

A  perfect  love  In  heaven. 

O  happy  world  !  O  glorious  place, 

Where  all  who  are  forgiven 
Shall  find  their  loved  and  lost  below. 
And  hearts,  like  melting  streams,  shall  flow, 

Forever  one  in  heaven  ! 


ONE    IN    LIFE  AND  ONE  IN  DF.ATH. 


HORATIUS   BONAR. 


"T^IS  thus  they  press  the  hand  and  part 
JL     Thus  have  they  bid  farewell  again  ; 

Yet  still  they  commune,  heart  with  heart, 
Linked  by  a  never-broken  chain. 

Still  one  in  life  and  one  in  death. 
One  in  their  hope  of  rest  above. 

One  in  their  joy,  their  trust,  their  faith, 
One  in  each  other's  faithful  love. 

Yes ;  shall  they  meet  again  in  peace, 

To  sing  the  song  of  festal  joy, 
Where  none  shall  bid  their  gladness  cease 

And  none  their  fellowship  destroy. 


34^  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Where  none  shall  beckon  them  away, 
Nor  bid  their  festival  be  done  ; 

Their  meeting-time  the  eternal  day, 

Their  meeting-place  the  eternal  throne. 

There,  hand  in  hand,  firm  linked  at  last, 
And  heart  to  heart  enfolded  all. 

They'll  smile  upon  the  troubled  past, 
And  wonder  why  they  wept  at  all. 

Then  let  them  press  the  hand  and  part, 
The  dearly  loved,  the  fondly  loving. 

Still,  still,  in  spirit  and  in  heart. 
The  undivided,  unremoving. 


THEV^  ARE  NOT  LOST,  BUT  GONE  BEFORE. 

SAY,  why  should  friendship  grieve  for  those 
Who  safe  arrive  on  Canaan's  shore  ? 
Released  from  all  their  hurtful  foes, 
They  are  not  lost,  but  gone  before. 

Dear  is  the  spot  where  Christians  sleep, 
And  sweet  the  strains  their  spirits  pour ; 

Oh  why  should  we  in  anguish  weep  ? 
They  are  not  lost,  but  gone  before. 

Secure  from  every  mortal  care, 
By  sin  and  sorrow  vexed  no  more. 

Eternal  happiness  they  share 

Who  are  not  lost,  but  gone  before. 


INHABITANTS   OF   HEAVEN.  347 

On  Jordan's  bank,  whene'er  we  come, 
And  hear  the  swelling  waters  roar, 

Father,  convey  us  safely  home 

To  friends  not  lost  but  gone  before. 


THE     BAND     THAT     NOW     IN     TRIUMPH 
SHINES. 


Giles  Fletcher. 


HERE  may  the  band  that  now  in  triumph  shines, 
And  that,  before  they  were  invested  thus, 
In  earthly  bodies  carried  heavenly  minds, 
Pitch  round  about,  in  order  glorious, 
Their  sunny  tents  and  houses  luminous, 
All  their  eternal  day  in  songs  employing, 
Joying  their  end,  without  end  of  their  joying, 
While  their  Almighty  Prince  destruction  is  destroying. 

Their  sight  drinks  lovely  fire  in  at  their  eyes ; 

Their  breath  sweet  incense  with  fine  breath  accloys. 

That  on  God's  sweating  altar  burning  lies  ; 
Their  hungry  ears  feed  on  the  heavenly  noise 
That  angels  sing  to  tell  their  untold  joys  ; 

Their  understanding,  naked  truth,  their  wills 

The  all  and  self-sufficient  goodness  fills, 

That  nothing  here  is  wanting  but  the  want  of  ills. 

No  sorrow  now  hangs  clouding  on  their  brow  ; 

No  bloodless  malady  empales  their  face ; 
No  age  drops  on  their  hairs  his  silver  snow ; 

No  nakedness  their  bodies  doth  embase  : 


348  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

No  poverty  themselves  and  theirs  disgrace  ; 
No  fear  of  death  the  joy  of  life  devours  ; 
No  unchaste  sleep  their  precious  time  deflowers ; 
No  loss,  no  grief,  no  change,  wait  on  their  winged  hours. 

But  now  their  naked  bodies  scorn  the  cold, 

And  from  their  eyes  joy  looks  and  laughs  at  pain : 

The  infant  wonders  how  he  came  so  old, 
The  old  man  how  he  came  so  young  again ; 
Still  resting,  though  from  sleep  they  still  refrain  ; 

Where  all  are  rich,  and  yet  no  gold  they  owe  ; 

And  all  are  kings,  and  yet  no  subjects  know ; 

All  full,  and  yet  no  time  they  do  on  food  bestow. 

About  the  holy  city  rolls  a  flood 

Of  molten  crystal,  like  a  sea  of  glass, 

On  which  weak  stream  a  strong  foundation  stood  ; 
Of  living  diamonds  the  building  was, 
That  all  things  else,  besides  itself,  did  pass ; 

Her  streets  instead  of  stones,  the  stars  did  pave. 

And  little  pearls  for  dust  it  seemed  to  have. 

On  which   soft-streaming  manna  like   pure  snow  did 
wave. 

It  is  no  flaming  lustre,  made  of  light. 

No  sweet  consent,  or  well-tuned  harmony, 
Ambrosia  for  to  feast  the  appetite. 
Or  flowery  odor  mixed  with  spicery, 
No  soft  embrace,  or  pleasure  bodily; 
And  yet  it  is  a  kind  of  inward  feast, 
A  harmony  that  sounds  within  the  breast, 
An  odor,  light,  embrace,  in  which  the  soul  doth  rest. 


INHABITANTS    OF    HEAVEN.  349 

A  heavenly  feast  no  hunger  can  consume, 
A  light  unseen,  yet  shines  in  every  place, 

A  sound  no  time  can  steal,  a  sweet  perfume 
No  winds  can  scatter,  an  entire  embrace 
That  no  satiety  can  e'er  unlace ;    ' 

Ingraced  into  so  high  a  favor  there, 

The  saints  with  their  beau-peers  whole  worlds  outwear 

And  things  unseen  do  see,  and  things  unheard  do  hear. 

Ye  blessed  souls,  grown  richer  by  your  spoil, 

Whose  loss,  though  great,  is  cause  of  greater  gains ; 
Here  may  your  wearied  spirits  rest  from  toil, 
Spending  your  endless  evening  that  remains 
Among  those  white  flocks  and  celestial  trains 
That  feed  upon  their  Shepherd's  eyes,  and  frame 
That  heavenly  music  of  so  wondrous  fame, 
Psalming  aloud  the  holy  honors  of  His  name. 


MY  SOUL,  THERE  IS  A  COUNTRIE. 


Henry  Vaughan. 


MY  soul,  there  is  a  countrie 
Afar  beyond  the  stars. 
Where  stands  a  winged  sentrie, 
AU  skilful  in  the  wars. 

There,  above  noise  and  danger. 

Sweet  peace  sits  crowned  with  smiles, 

And  One  born  in  a  manger 

Commands  the  beauteous  files. 


350 


HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


He  is  thy  gracious  Friend, 
And  (O  my  soul,  awake  !) 

Did  in  pure  love  descend 
To  die  here  for  thy  sake. 

If  thou  canst  get  but  thither, 

There  grows  the  flowre  of  peace, 

The  rose  that  cannot  wither, 
Thy  fortresse  and  thy  ease. 

Leave,  then,  thy  foolish  ranges, 
For  none  can  thee  secure 

But  One,  who  never  changes. 
Thy  God,  thy  Life,  thy  Cure. 


OCCUPATION   OF   HEAVEN. 


And  they  sing  the  song  of  Moses,  the  servant  of  God,  and  the  song  of  the 
Lamb,  saying,  Great  and  marvellous  are  thy  works,  Lord  God  Almighty;  just  and 
true  are  thy  ways,  thou  King  of  Saints. — Rev.  15  -.3. 

Therefore  are  they  before  the  throne  of  God,  and  serve  him  day  and  night  in 
the  temple  :  and  he  that  sitteth  on  the  throne  shall  dwell  among  them. — Rev.  7  :  16. 

And  I  heard  as  it  were  the  voice  of  ^  great  multitude,  and  as  the  voice  of 
many  waters,  and  as  the  voice  of  mighty  thunderings,  saying.  Alleluia :  for  the 
Lord  God  omnipotent  reigneth. — Rev.  19  :  6. 


OCCUPATION  OF  HEAVEN, 


IN  THE  GREEN  PASTURES. 


From  the  Spanish.     By  William  Cullen  Bryant. 


REGION  of  life  and  light, 
Land  of  the  good  whose  earthly  toils  are  o'er ; 
Nor  frost,  nor  heat  may  blight 
Thy  vernal  beauty,  fertile  shore, 
Yielding  thy  blessed  fruits  for  evermore  ! 

There,  without  crook  or  sling, 
Walks  the  Good  Shepherd  ;  blossoms,  white  and  red, 

Round  His  meek  temples  cling  ; 

And  to  sweet  pastures  led. 
His  own  loved  flock  beneath  His  eye  is  fed. 

He  guides,  and  near  Him  they 
Follow  delighted  ;  for  He  makes  them  go 

Where  dwells  eternal  May, 

And  heavenly  roses  blow. 
Deathless,  and  gathered  but  again  to  grow. 

He  leads  them  to  the  height, 
Named  of  the  infinite  and  long-sought  Good, 

And  fountains  of  delight. 

And  where  His  feet  have  stood 
Springs  up  along  the  way  their  tender  food. 


354  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

And  when,  in  the  mid  skies, 
The  climbing  sun  has  reached  his  highest  bound, 

Reposing  as  He  Hes, 

With  all  His  flock  around, 
He  witches  the  still  air  with  numerous  sound. 

From  His  sweet  lute  flow  forth 
Immortal  harmonies,  of  power  to  still 

All  passions  born  of  earth, 

And  draw  the  ardent  will 
Its  destiny  of  goodness  to  fulfill. 

Might  but  a  little  part, 
A  wandering  breath,  of  that  high  melody- 
Descend  into  my  heart 
And  change  it,  till  it  be 
Transformed  and  swallowed  up,  O  Love,  in  Thee.! 

Ah  !  then  beloved  I  should  know*, 
Where  Thou  liest  at  noon  of  day. 

And  from  this  place  of  woe 

Released,  should  take  my  way 
To  mingle  with  Thy  flock,  and  never  stray. 


PALMS  OF  GLORY,  RAIMENT  WHITE. 


James  Montgomrry. 


PALMS  of  glory,  raiment  bright, 
Crowns  that  never  fade  away, 
Gird  and  deck  the  saints  in  light  ; 

Priests  and  kings  and  conquerors  they. 


OCCUPATION   OF    HEAVEN.  355 

Yet  the  conquerors  bring  their  palms 

To  the  Lamb  amidst  the  throne, 
And  proclaim,  in  joyful  psalms 

Victory  through  His  cross  alone. 

Kings  for  harps  their  crowns  resign, 

Crying  as  they  strike  the  chords, 
"  Take  the  kingdom — it  is  Thine, 

King  of  kings,  and  Lord  of  lords." 
Round  the  altar,  priests  confess, 

If  their  robes  are  white  as  snow, 
'Twas  the  Saviour's  righteousness, 

And  His  blood  that  made  them  so. 

Who  are  these  ?     On  earth  they  dwelt, 

Sinners  once  of  Adam's  race  ; 
Guilt  and  fear,  and  suffering  felt, 

But  were  saved  by  sovereign  grace. 
They  were  mortal,  too,  like  us  ; 

Ah,  when  we  like  them  must  die, 
May  our  souls,  translated  thus, 

Triumph,  reign,  and  shine  on  high. 


WHEN  THE  ANGELS  ALL  ARE  SINGING. 


Sir  Nicholas  Breton. 


WHEN  the  angels  all  are  singing 
All  of  glorie  euer  springing 
[n  the  ground  of  high  heauen's  graces, 
Where  all  vertues  haue  their  places  ; 

Oh  that  my  poore  soule  were  neare  them. 
With  an  humble  heart  to  hear  them  ! 


35^  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Then  should  faith,  in  loue's  submission 
loying  but  in  mercie's  blessing, 
Where  that  sinnes  are  in  remission, 
Sing  the  ioyful  soule's  confessing ; 
Of  her  comforts  high  commending 
All  in  glorie  neuer  ending. 

But,  ah  wretched  sinfull  creature  ! 
How  should  the  corrupted  nature 
Of  this  wicked  heart  of  mine 
Thinke  vpon  that  loue  diuine, 

That  doth  tune  the  angel's  voices, 
While  the  hoast  of  heauen  reioyces  ? 

No  !  the  songe  of  deadly  sorrowe 
In  the  night  that  hath  no  morrow, 
And  their  paines  are  neuer  ended 
That  haue  heauenly* powers  offended, 
Is  more  fitting  to  the  merite 
Of  my  foule  infected  spirit. 

Yet  while  mercie  is  remoouing 
All  the  sorrowes  of  the  louing. 
How  can  faith  be  full  of  blindnesse 
To  despaire  of  mercie's  kindnesse  ; 
While  the  hand  of  heauen  is  giuing 
Comfort  for  the  euer-liuing? 

No,  my  soule,  be  no  more  sorie ; 
Looke  vnto  that  life  of  glorie 
Which  the  grace  of  faith  regardeth, 
And  the  tcares  of  loue  rewardeth  ; 
Where  the  soule  the  comfort  getteth, 
That  the  angels'  musique  settcth. 


OCCUPATION    OF   HEAVEN.  357 

There  when  thou  art  well  conducted, 
And  by  heauenly  grace  instructed 
How  the  faithful!  thoughts  to  fashion 
Of  a  rauisht  loner's  passion, 

Sing  with  sainctes  to  angels  nighest 

Halleluiah  in  the  highest. 


THEY  PRAISE  HIM  DAY  AND  NIGHT. 


Marianne  Farningham. 


THEY  are  perfectly  blest — the  redeemed  and  the 
free — 
Who  are  resting  in  joy  by  the  smooth  glassy  sea ; 
They  breathed  here  on  earth  all  their  sorrowful  sighs, 
And  Jesus  has  kissed  all  the  tears  from  their  eyes. 

They  are  happy  at  home  !     They  have  learnt  the  new 

song, 
And  warble  it  sweetly  amid  the  glad  throng ; 
No  faltering  voices,  no  discords  are  there — 
The  melodious  praises  swell  high  through  the  air. 

There  falls  not  on  them  the  deep  silence  of  night, 
They  never  grow  weary — ne'er  fadeth  the  light ; 
Throughout  the  long  day  new  hosannahs  they  raise, 
And  express  their  glad  thoughts  in  exuberant  praise. 

E'en  thus  would  we  praise  thee,  dear  Saviour  divine — 
We  too  would  be  with  thee — loved  children  of  thine  ; 
O  teach  us,  that  we  may  sing  perfectly  there 
When  we  too  are  called  to  that  city  so  fair. 


35^  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


THE  ENDLESS  ALLELUIA. 


Translated  by  T.  G.  Crippen  in  his  book  Ancient  Hymns  and  Poems. 


[This  celebrated  hymn  is  at  least  as  old  as  the  8th  century.  It  occurs  in  the 
Mozarabic  Breviary,  where  it  is  appointed  for  the  Sunday  before  Septuagesima : 
from  which  time  till  Easter  Alleluia  was  not  sung  in  the  churches.] 

"  Alleluia  piis  edite  laudibus." 

ALLELUIA  !  let  the  holy  sounds  of  cheerful  praises 
ring, 
Freemen  of  the  heavenly  city ;  join  in  sweetest  notes 
to  sing 

Alleluia  evermore. 


In  the  everlasting  anthem  while  the  hymning  choirs 

unite, 
Alleluia  shall   uplift  you   hence   to  realms  of  endless 

light. 

Alleluia  evermore. 

You,  in   God's  illustrious  city,  shall   a  ready  welcome 

greet, — 
City  with   glad  songs  resounding,  where    the    echoes 

still  repeat 

Alleluia  evermore. 

Of  that  happy  restoration  freely  gather  all  the  joys, 
To  the  Lord  ascribing  glory,  singing  with  melodious 
noise 

Alleluia  evermore. 


OCCUPATION    OF   HEAVEN.  359 

Victors,  of  the  star-bespangled  fatherland  ye  now  at- 
tain 

All   the   radiant    honors,   wherefore   peals   aloud    the 
ceaseless  strain, — 

Alleluia  evermore. 

Thence  a  sound  of  noble  voices,  grandly  echoing,  rolls 

along. 
Telling   out  the   King's  high   praises   in  a  blithe  and 

merry  song — 

Alleluia  evermore. 

There  is  rest  for  all   the  weary,  there  immortal  wine 

and  bread, 
Sweetly  luring  home  the  travellers,  plenteous,  though 

they  all  be  fed. 

Alleluia  evermore. 

Thee,  with  all  our  hearts  and  voices.    Maker    of  the 
world,  we  praise, 
.    And    to   Thy   deserved    honor   our   melodious   music 
raise — 

Alleluia  evermore. 

Thee,  O  Christ,  as  Lord  Almighty,  shall  Thy  glorious 

praise  proclaim. 
By   our  gladsome   voices   chanted ;    while   we  sing  to 

Thy  dear  name. 

Alleluia  evermore. 


360  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


WHAT  SONGS  SHALL  WE  SING? 


Elias  Nason. 


WHAT  songs   shall   we   sing   on   that    evergreen 
shore 
Where  the  blessed  in  Jesus  unite  ? 
''  Hymns  of  praise  to    the    Prince    whom    the  angels 
adore ; 
Hymns  of  praise  with  seraphic  delight." 

What  robes  shall  we  wear  on  that  evergreen  shore 

Where  the  blessed  in  harmony  sing  ? 
''  The  robes  of  the  glorified,  gleaming  all  o'er 

With  the  brightness  that  shines  from  the  King." 

What  flowers  shall  we  cull  on  that  evergreen  shore 
Where  the  blessed  in  bright  raiments  rove  ? 

'*  Red  roses  and  lilies  that  fade  nevermore, 
Breathing  bliss  through  the  gardens  of  love." 

What  friends  shall  we  greet  on  that  evergreen  shore 
Where  the  blessed  find  blossoms  so  fair  ? 

"  The  loved  ones  of  Jesus,  who  have  passed  on  before, 
In  rapture  to  welcome  us  there.'' 

What  home  shall  we  see  on  that  evergreen  shore 
Where  the  blessed  meet  those  they  loved  here? 

"  The  mansions  of  beauty,  with  love-light  in  store, 
Where  the  King  wipes  away  every  tear." 


OCCUPATION   OF   HEAVEN.  361 


THE   MUSIC  OF  HEAVEN  IS  ATTUNED. 


F.   E.   Cox. 


THE  music  of  Heaven  is  attuned  to  a  measure 
Our  Spirit's  deep  thirst  ever  longs  for  in  vain ; 
For   the    music    of  earth,    though    it  thrills   us  with 
pleasure, 
Gives  pleasure  not  wholly  unmingled  with  pain. 

And  though  for  a  moment  the  ear  may  be  captured 
By  notes  that  from  Paradise  seem  to  have  birth, 

By  sounds  to  which  Angels  might  listen  enraptured, 
The  dream  is  dispelled  by  the  voices  of  earth. 

Some  weariness,  pain,  or  some  passing  vexations 
The  half-entranced  soul  from  its  bliss  will  recall ; 

Or  the  heart  is  unstrung,  and  the  sweet  modulations 
On  heart-enchained  senses  untunefully  fall. 

When  resoundeth   God's  praise  in  the  courts  of  His 
DweUing, 

False  jarrings  of  earth  will  too  often  begin  ; 
And  the  higher  and  clearer  the  anthem  is  swelling, 

The  more  are  we  conscious  of  discord  within, 

But  it  will  not  be  thus  when  to  Heavenly  regions. 
Released  from  its  thraldom,  our  Spirit  takes  wing, 

And  uniting  in  concert  with  glorified  legions. 

Shall  learn  that  "  new  Song  "  which  none  other  can 
sing. 


362  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


THE  SONG  IS  EVER  NEW. 


Robert  Pollok. 


THE  song  of  Heaven  is  ever  new,  for  daily  thus, 
And  nightly  new  discoveries  are  made 
Of  God's  unbounded  wisdom,  power  and  love 
Which  give  the  understanding  larger  room, 
And  swell  the  hymn  with  ever-growing  praise. 


SUCH  CONCORD  IS  IN  HEAVEN. 


John  Milton. 


NO  sooner  had  the  Almighty  ceased,  but  all 
The  multitude  of  angels,  with  a  shout 
Loud  as  from  numbers  without  number,  sweet 
As  from  blest  voices,  uttering  joy,  Heaven  rung 
With  jubilee,  and  loud  Hosannas  fill'd 
The  eternal  regions  :  lowly  reverent 
Towards  either  throne  they  bow,  and  to  the  ground 
With  solemn  adoration  down  they  cast 
Their  crowns  inwove  with  amarant  and  gold  ; 
Immortal  Amarant,  a  flower  which  once 
In  Paradise,  fast  by  the  tree  of  life, 
Began  to  bloom  ;  but  soon  for  man's  offence 
To  Heaven  remov'd  where  first  it  grew,  there  grows, 
And  flowers  aloft,  shading  the  fount  of  life, 
And  where  the  river  of  bliss  through  midst  of  Heaven 


OCCUPATION   OF   HEAVEN.  363 

Rolls  o'er  Elysian  flowers  her  amber  stream  : 
With  these  that  never  fade  the  spirits  elect 
Bind  their  resplendent  locks  inwreath'd  with  beams. 
Now  in  loose  garlands  thick  thrown  ofl",  the  bright 
Pavement,  that  like  a  sea  of  jasper  shone, 
Impurpled  with  celestial  roses  smil'd. 
Then  crowned  again,  their  golden  harps  they  took, 
Harps  ever  tuned,  that  glittering  by  their  side 
Like  quivers  hung,  and  with  preamble  sweet 
Of  charming  symphony  they  introduce 
Their  sacred  song,  and  waken  raptures  high  ; 
No  voice  exempt,  no  voice  but  well  could  join 
Melodious  part,  such  concord  is  in  Heaven. 


THE  EVERLASTING  PRAISE. 


Anne  Steele. 


OH  for  a  sweet,  inspiring  ray, 
To  animate  our  feeble  strains. 
From  the  bright  realms  of  endless  day. 
The  blissful  realms  where  Jesus  reigns ! 

There,  low  before  His  glorious  throne, 

Adoring  saints  and  angels  fall, 
And,  with  delightful  worship,  own 

His  smile  their  bliss,  their  heaven,  their  all. 

Immortal  glories  crown  His  head, 

While  tuneful  hallelujahs  rise. 
And  love  and  joy  and  triumph  spread 

Through  all  th'  assemblies  of  the  skies. 


364  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

He  smiles,  and  seraphs  tune  their  songs 
To  boundless  rapture  while  they  gaze 

Ten  thousand  thousand  joyful  tongues 
Resound  His  everlasting  praise. 

There  all  the  favorites  of  the  Lamb 
Shall  join  at  last  the  heavenly  choir: 

Oh,  may  the  joy-inspiring  theme 
Awake  our  faith  and  warm  desire ! 


ALLELUIA  TO  THE  LAMB. 


From  the  Latin. 


A 


LLELUIA!  sweetest  music,  voice  of  everlasting 
joy! 

Alleluia    is    the    language   which    the    heavenly  hosts 
employ, 

As  they  ever  sing  to  God, 
In  that  pure  and  blest  abode. 

Alleluia !  joyful  mother,  true  Jerusalem  above ! 
Alleluia  is  the  music  which  thy  happy  children  love  ; 

Exiles,  tears  our  songs  must  steep; 

Oft  by  Babel's  streams  we  weep. 

Alleluia  cannot  ever  be  our  joyous  psalm  below  ; 

Alleluia — sin  will  cross  it  often  here  with  tones  of  woe; 
Many  a  mournful  hour  we  know 
When  our  tears  for  sin  must  flow. 


OCCUPATION    OF   HEAVEN.  365 

Therefore,  'mid  our  tears  still  praising,  grant  us,  blessed 

Trinity, 
Thy  true  paschal  feast  hereafter  in  the  heavenly  home 
to  see, 

Where  our  song  shall  ever  be, 
Alleluia  unto  Thee  ! 


ANGEL  CHOIRS  ON  HIGH  ARE  SINGING. 


"  Astant  angelorum  chori, 
Laudes  cantant  Creatori, 
Regem  cernunt  in  decore, 
Amant  corde,  laudant  ore." 
From  the  Latin   of  the   celebrated   Thomas  a   Kempis,  Translated   by  Erastus 
C.  Benedict. 


ANGEL  choirs  on  high  are  singing. 
To  the  Lord  their  praises  bringing, 
Yielding  Him  in  royal  beauty 
Heart  and  voice,  in  love  and  duty ; 
Waving  wings  the  throne  surrounding, 
Timbrels,  harps,  and  bells  are  sounding. 
See  their  heavenly  vestments  glisten  ; 
To  their  heavenly  music  listen  : 
Hear  them,  by  the  Godhead  staying, 
Holy,  holy,  holy,  saying. 

None  that  grieveth  or  complaineth 
In  that  heavenly  land  remaineth  : 
Every  voice,  in  concord  joining. 
Holy  praise  to  God  combining. 
Holy  love  their  minds  disposeth  ; 
Heavenly  light  to  all  discloseth 


366  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Blessed  Three  in  God  united. 
Seraphs  worshipping  delighted, 
Sweet  affection  overflowing ; 
Cherubim  their  reverence  showing, 
Bowing  low,  their  pinions  folding, 
God's  majestic  throne  beholding. 

Oh,  what  fair  and  heavenly  region ! 
Oh,  what  bright  and  glorious  legion ! 
Saints  and  angels  all  excelling, 
In  that  glorious  city  dwelling, 
Which  in  rest  divine  reposeth, 
And  sweet  light  and  peace  discloseth. 
Every  one  who  there  resideth 
Clad  in  purity  abideth  ; 
Charity  their  spirits  joining, 
Firm  in  unity  combining; 
Toil  nor  ignorance  undergoing. 
Trouble  nor  temptation  knowing; 
Always  health  and  joy  undying 
To  them  every  good  supplying. 


SERAPHS  WITH  ELEVATED  STRAINS. 


Isaac  Watts. 


SERAPHS  with  elevated  strains 
Circle  the  throne  around, 
And  move  and  charm  the  starry  plains 
With  an  immortal  sound. 


OCCUPATION   OF   HEAVEN.  367 

Jesus  the  Lord  their  harps  employs  ; 

Jesus,  my  love,  they  sing  ; 
Jesus,  the  name  of  both  our  joys, 

Sounds  sweet  from  every  string. 

Hark,  how  beyond  the  narrow  bounds 

Of  time  and  space  they  run, 
And  speak,  in  most  majestic  sounds, 

The  Godhead  of  the  Son  ; — 

How  on  the  Father's  breast  he  lay, 

The  darling  of  His  soul. 
Infinite  years  before  the  day 

Or  heavens  began  to  roll. 

And  now  they  sink  the  lofty  tones. 

And  gentler  notes  they  play, 
And  bring  the  eternal  Godhead  down 

To  dwell  in  humble  clay. 

Thus,  while  with  unambitious  strife 

Th'  ethereal  minstrels  rove 
Through  all  the  labors  of  His  life 

And  wonders  of  His  love, 

In  the  full  choir  a  broken  string 

Groans  with  a  strange  surprise ; 
The  rest  in  silence  mourn  their  King, 

Who  bleeds,  and  loves,  and  dies. 

Seraph  and  saint,  with  drooping  wings. 

Cease  their  harmonious  breath  ; 
No  blooming  trees,  nor  bubbling  springs. 

While  Jesus  sleeps  in  death. 


368  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Then  all  at  once  to  living  strains 
They  summon  every  chord, 

Break  up  the  tomb,  and  burst  his  chains. 
And  show  their  rising  Lord  ! 

Around  the  flaming  army  throngs 
To  guard  Him  to  the  skies, 

With  loud  hosannas  on  their  tongues, 
And  triumph  in  their  eyes. 

In  awful  state  the  conquering  God 
Ascends  His  shining  throne. 

While  tuneful  angels  sound  abroad 
The  victories  He  has  won. 

Now  let  me  rise  and  join  their  song, 

And  be  an  angel  too  ; 
My  heart,  my  hand,  my  ear,  my  tongue. 

Here's  joyful  work  for  you  ! 

I  would  begin  the  music  here, 
And  so  my  soul  should  rise ; 

Oh  for  some  heavenly  notes  to  bear 
My  spirit  to  the  skies ! 

There  ye  that  love  my  Saviour  sit ; 

There  I  would  fain  have  place. 
Amongst  your  thrones,  or  at  your  feet, 

So  I  might  see  His  face. 

I  am  confined  to  earth  no  more, 
But  mount  in  haste  above, 

To  bless  the  God  that  I  adore, 
And  sing  the  Man  I  love  ! 


OCCUPATION   OF   HEAVEN.  369 


SING  WITH  ME  WEEPING  BRETHREN. 


James  Hogg. 


SING  with  me,  sing  with  me, 
Weeping  brethren,  sing  with  me  ! 
For  now  an  open  heaven  I  see, 
And  a  crown  of  glory  laid  for  me. 
How  my  soul  this  earth  despises ! 
How  my  heart  and  spirit  rises ! 
Bounding  from  the  flesh  I  sever  ; 
World  of  sin,  adieu  forever  ! 

Sing  with  me,  sing  with  me. 
Friends  in  Jesus,  sing  with  me  ! 
All  my  sufferings,  all  my  woe, 
All  my  griefs  I  here  forego. 
Farewell,  terrors,  sighing,"  grieving, 
Praying,  hearing,  and  believing, 
Earthly  trust  and  all  its  wrongings, 
Earthly  love  and  all  its  longings. 

Sing  with  me,  sing  with  me, 
Blessed  spirits,  sing  with  me  ! 
To  the  Lamb  our  songs  shall  be, 
Through  a  glad  eternity. 
Farewell,  earthly  morn  and  even. 
Sun,  and  moon,  and  stars  of  heaven  ; 
Heavenly  portals  ope  before  me. 
Welcome  Christ  in  all  His  glory! 
24 


370  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


THEY  KEEP  THE  JOYOUS  JUBILEE. 

HORATIUS     BONAR. 


CHURCH  of  the  ever-living  God, 
The  Father's  gracious  choice, 
Amid  the  voices  of  this  earth 
How  feeble  is  thy  voice  ! 

Not  many  rich  or  noble  called, 

Not  many  great  or  wise  ; 
They  whom  God  makes  His  kings  and  priests 

Are  poor  in  human  eyes. 

But  the  chief  Shepherd  comes  at  length; 

Their  feeble  days  are  o'er, 
No  more  a  handful  in  the  earth, 

A  little  flock  no  more. 

No  more  a  lily  among  thorns, 

Weary  and  faint  and  few  ; 
But  countless  as  the  stars  of  heaven. 

Or  as  the  early  dew. 

Then  entering  th'  eternal  halls, 

In  robes  of  victory, 
That  mighty  multitude  shall  keep 

The  joyous  jubilee. 

Unfading  palms  they  bear  aloft ; 

Unfaltering  songs  they  sing ; 
Unending  festival  they  keep, 

In  presence  of  the  King. 


REST   OF   HEAVEN. 


There  remaineth,  therefore,  a  rest  to  the  people  of  God. — Heb.  4  :  9. 

They  shall  hunger  no  more,  neither  thirst  any  more ;  neither  shall  the  sun 
light  on  them,  nor  any  heat.  For  the  Lamb  which  is  in  the  midst  of  the  throne 
shall  feed  them,  and  shall  lead  them  unto  living  fountains  of  waters ;  and  God 
shall  wipfe  away  all  tears  from  their  eyes. — Rev.  7  :  17. 

And  there  shall  be  no  more  death,  neither  sorrow,  nor  crying,  neither  shall 
there  be  any  more  pain  :  for  the  former  things  are  passed  away. — Rev.  21  :  4. 


THE  REST  OF  HEAVEN. 


WHEN  SHALL  I  BE  AT  REST? 


Church  of  England  Quarterly. 


WHEN  shall  I  be  at  rest  ?     My  trembling  heart 
Grows  weary  of  its  burden  ;  sickening  still 
With  hope  deferred.     Oh,  that  it  were  Thy  will     - 
To  loose  my  bonds,  and  take  me  where  Thou  art ! 

When  shall  I  be  at  rest  ?  my  eyes  grow  dim 

With  straining  through  the  gloom  ;  I  scarce  can  see 
The  way-marks  that  my  Saviour  left  for  me  ; 

Would  it  were  morn,  and  I  were  safe  with  Him  ! 

When  shall  I  be  at  rest?     Hand  over  hand 
I  grasp,  and  climb  an  ever  steeper  hill, 
A  rougher  path.     Oh,  that  it  were  Thy  will 

My  tired  feet  had  reached  the  Promised  Land! 

Oh,  that  I  were  at  rest  !     A  thousand  fears 
Come  thronging  o'er  me,  lest  I  fail  at  last. 
Would  I  were  safe,  all  toil  and  danger  past, 

And  Thine  own  hand  had  wiped  away  my  tears ! 

Oh,  that  I  were  at  rest  like  some  I  love. 

Whose  last  fond  looks  drew  half  my  life  away. 
Seeming  to  plead  that  either  they  might  stay 

With  me  on  earth,  or  I  with  them  above  ! 


374  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


REST  FOR  THEE  IN  HEAVEN, 

*'  T  F  ever  life  should  seem 

-L    To  thee  a  tedious  way, 
And  gladness  cease  to  beam 

Upon  its  clouded  day ; 
If,  like  the  weary  dove, 

O'er  shoreless  oceans  driven, 
Raise  thou  thine  eye  above. 

There's  rest  for  thee  in  heaven. 

But  O,  if  thornless  flowers 

Throughout  thy  pathway  bloom, 
And  gayly  fleet  the  hours, 

Unstained  by  earthly  gloom  ; 
Still,  let  not  every  thought 

To  this  poor  world  be  given  ; 
Nor  always  be  forgot, 

Thy  better  rest  in  heaven." 


THEN  WELCOME  CHANGE  AND  DEATH. 


HORATIUS   BONAR. 


NOT  long,  not  long  ! — The  spirit-wasting  fever 
Of  this   strange  life   shall   quit  each  throbbing 
vein  ; 
And  this  wild  pulse  flow  placidly  for  ever  ; 
And  endless  peace  relieve  the  burning  brain. 


THE    REST   OF   HEAVEN.  375 

Earth's  joys  are  but  a  dream  ;  its  destiny 
Is  but  decay  and  death.     Its  fairest  form 

Sunshine  and  shadow  mixed.     Its  brightest  day 
A  rainbow  braided  on  the  wreaths  of  storm. 

Yet  there  is  blessedness  that  changeth  not ; 

A  rest  with  God,  a  Hfe  that  cannot  die ; 
A  better  portion  and  a  brighter  lot ; 

A  home  with  Christ,  a  heritage  on  high. 

Hope  for  the  hopeless,  for  the  weary,  rest, 
INIore  gentle  than  the  still  repose  of  even! 

Joy  for  the  joyless,  bliss  for  the  unblest ; 
Homes  for  the  desolate  in  yonder  heaven ! 

The  tempest  makes  returning  calm  more  dear ; 

The  darkest  midnight  makes  the  brightest  star, 
Even  so  to  us  when  all  is  ended  here, 

Shall  be  the  past,  remembered  from  afar. 

Then  welcome  change  and  death  !     Since  these  alone 
Can  break  life's  fetters,  and  dissolve  its  spell ; 

Welcome  all  present  change,  which  speeds  us  on 
So  swift  to  that  which  is  unchangeable. 


TELL  ME,  YE  WINGED  WINDS. 


Charles    Mackay. 


TELL  me,  ye  winged  winds, 
That  round  my  pathway  roar, 
Do  ye  not  know  some  spot 

Where  mortals  weep  no  more  ? 


376  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Some  lone  and  pleasant  dell, 

Some  valley  in  the  west, 
Where  free  from  toil  and  pain, 
The  weary  soul  may  rest  ? 
The  loud  wind  softened  to  a  whisper  low, 
And  sighed  for  pity  as  it  answered,  "  No  !  " 

Tell  me,  thou  mighty  deep, 

Where  billows  round  me  play, 
Know'st  thou  some  favored  spot. 

Some  island  far  away, 
Where  weary  man  may  find 

The  bliss  for  which  he  sighs. 
Where  sorrow  never  lives, 

And  friendship  never  dies? 
The  loud  waves,  rolling  in  perpetual  flow, 
Stopped  for  awhile,  and  answered  "  No  !  " 

And  thou,  serenest  moon. 

That  with  such  holy  face 
Dost  look  upon  the  earth, 

Asleep  in  night's  embrace, 
Tell  me,  in  all  thy  round, 

Hast  thou  not  seen  some  spot 
Where  miserable  man 

Might  find  a  happier  lot  ? 
Behind  a  cloud  the  moon  withdrew  in  wo. 
And  a  voice  sweet,  but  sad,  responded  '*  No  !  " 

Tell  me,  my  secret  soul, 

Oh !  tell  me,  Hope  and  Faith, 
Is  there  no  resting  place 

From  sorrow,  sin,  and  death — 


THE    REST   OF   HEAVEN.  377 

Is  there  no  happy  spot, 

Where  mortals  may  be  blessed, 
Where  grief  may  find  a  balm, 
And  weariness  a  rest  ? 
Faith,  Hope,  and  Love — best  boons  to  mortals  given — 
VVav'd  their  bright  wings  and  whispered.  Yes,  in  Heaven. 


MY  REST  IS  NOT  HERE. 


Henry  Francis  Lyte. 


MY  rest  is  in  heaven,  my  rest  is  not  here ; 
Then   why   should   I   murmur  when  trials   are 
near  ? 
Be  hushed,  my  dark  spirit ;  the  worst  that  can  come 
But  shortens  thy  journey,  and  hastens  thee  home. 

It  is  not  for  me  to  be  seeking  my  bliss, 
And  building  my  hopes  in  a  region  like  this  ; 
I  look  for  a  city  which  hands  have  not  piled, 
I  pant  for  a  country  by  sin  undefiled. 

The  thorn  and  the  thistle  around  me  may  grow, — 
I  would  not  lie  down  upon  roses  below  ; 
I  ask  not  my  portion,  I  seek  not  a  rest. 
Till  I  find  them  forever  in  Jesus'  breast. 

Afflictions  may  damp  me,  they  cannot  destroy; 
One  glimpse  of  His  love  turns  them  all  into  joy, 
And  the  bitterest  tears,  if  He  smile  but  on  them, 
Like  the  dew  in  the  sunshine,  grow  diamond  and  gem. 


3/8  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Let  doubt,  then,  and  danger,  my  progress  oppose; 
They  only  make  heaven  more  sweet  at  the  close. 
Come  joy  or  come  sorrow,  whate'er  may  befall, 
An  hour  with  my  God  will  make  up  for  them  all. 

A  scrip  on  my  back,  and  a  staff  in  my  hand, 
I'll  march  on  in  haste  in  an  enemy's  land  ; 
The  road  may  be  rough,  but  it  cannot  be  long, 
And  I'll  smooth  it  with  hope  and  cheer  it  with  song! 


YES,  THERE  REMAINETH  A  REST. 


From  the  German.    Translated  by  Miss  Winkworth. 


YES,  there  remaineth  yet  a  rest  ; 
Arise,  sad  heart,  that  darkly  pines, 

By  heavy  care  and  pain  oppressed. 
On  whom  no  sun  of  gladness  shines  ; 

Look  to  the  Lamb ! — in  yon  bright  fields 

Thou'lt  know  the  joy  His  presence  yields. 

Cast  off  thy  load  and  thither  haste  ; 

Soon  shalt  thou  fight  and  bleed  no  more, 
Soon,  soon  thy  weary  course  be  o'er, 

And  deep  the  rest  thou  then  shalt  taste. 

The  rest  appointed  thee  of  God  ; 

The  rest  that  naught  shall  break  or  move. 
That  ere  this  earth  by  man  was  trod 

Was  set  apart  for  thee  by  love. 
Thy  Saviour  gave  His  life  to  win 
This  rest  for  thee  ;  oh,  enter  in  ! 


THE    REST   OF    HEAVEN.  379 

Hear  how  His  voice  sounds  far  and  wide ; 

*'  Ye  weary  souls  no  more  delay  ; 

Loiter  not  faithless  by  the  way ; 
Here  in  my  peace  and  rest  abide !  " 

Yonder  in  joy  the  sheaves  we  bring, 

Whose  seed  was  sown  on  earth  in  tears  ; 
There  in  our  Father's  house  we  sing 

The  song  too  sweet  for  mortal  ears  ; 
Sorrow  and  sighing  all  are  past, 
And  pain  and  death  are  fled  at  last  ; 
There  with  the  Lamb  of  God  we  dwell ; 

He  leads  us  to  the  crystal  river ; 

He  wipes  away  all  tears  forever ; 
What  there  is  ours  no  tongue  can  tell. 

Hunger  nor  thirst  can  pain  us  there ; 

The  time  of  recompense  is  come, 
Nor  cold,  nor  scorching  heat  we  bear, 

Safe  sheltered  in  our  Saviour's  home  ; 
The  Lamb  is  in  the  midst,  and  those 
Who  followed  Him  through  shame  and  woes 
Are  crowned  with  honor,  joy  and  peace  ; 

The  dry  bones  gather  life  again ; 

One  Sabbath  over  all  shall  reign, 
Wherein  all  toil  and  labor  cease. 

There  is  untroubled  calm  and  light, 
No  gnawing  care  shall  mar  our  rest ; 

Ye  weary,  heed  this  word  aright ; 

Come,  lean  upon  your  Saviour's  breast  ! 

Fain  would  I  linger  here  no  more. 

Fain  to  yon  happier  world  upsoar, 


38o  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

And  join  that  bright  expectant  band ! 
Oh,  raise  nay  soul,  the  joyful  song 
That  rings  through  yon  triumphant  throng, 
Thy  perfect  rest  is  nigh  at  hand  ! 


AND  IS  THERE,  LORD,  A  REST? 


Ray  Palmer. 


AND  is  there,  Lord,  a  rest, 
For  weary  souls  designed. 
Where  not  a  care  shall  stir  the  breast 
Or  sorrow  entrance  find  ? 

Is  there  a  blissful  home, 

Where  kindred  minds  shall  meet, 

And  live,  and  love,  nor  ever  roam 
From  that  serene  retreat  ? 

Are  there  bright,  happy  fields. 

Where  nought  that  blooms  shall  die ;         •* 
Where  each  new  scene  fresh  pleasure  yields. 

And  healthful  breezes  sigh? 

Are  there  celestial  streams. 

Where  living  waters  glide. 
With  murmurs  sweet  as  angel  dreams, 

And  flowery  banks  beside  ? 

Forever  blessed  they 

Whose  joyful  feet  shall  stand 
While  endless  ages  waste  away 

Amid  that  glorious  band  ! 


THE    REST   OF   HEAVEN.  38 1 

My  soul  would  thither  tend 

While  toilsome  years  are  given  ; 
Then  let  me,  gracious  God,  ascend 

To  sweet  repose  in  Heaven  ! 


O  RESTFUL  HOME  WE  TURN  TO  THEE. 


Marianne  Farningham. 


"Neither  shall  there  be  any  more  pain." 

HOW  sweetly  rest  at  home  those  who  have  acted 
In  life's  e'er  painful  drama  darkling  parts ; 
There  nevermore  are  aching  brows  contracted, 

There  nevermore  bleed  bruised  and  broken  hearts. 

Not  there,  as  here,  sad  eyes  are  watching,  weeping. 
Beloved  ones  toss  through  nights  of  wearying  pain  ; 

NotTTien,  as  now,  is  death  its  cold  hands  steeping 
Deep  in  the  blood  and  tears  of  all  the  slain. 

There  the  sharp  cut  of  harsh  neglect  ne'er  bringeth 
Tears  to  the  eyes,  whence  tears  are  wiped  away ; 

There  hate  or  anger  ne'er  its  wild  dart  flingeth 
Upon  the  unshielded  :  there  is  peace  alway. 

In  heaven  is  perfect  health — no  pain,  no  weakness, 
No  brooding  sorrow,  no  oppressive  fears  ; 

The  pure,  the  blest,  made  perfect  in  their  meekness, 
Pass  tranquilly  adown  the  eternal  years. 


382  HEAVEN    IN    SONG. 

O  restful  home  for  us  the  broken-hearted, 
We  turn  our  eyes  to  thee,  amid  our  pain  ; 

When  shall  life's  pressing  sorrows  have  departed, 
And  we  have  reached  the  shadowless  again  ? 


UNTIL  THE  EVENING  WE  MUST  WEEP  AND 

TOIL. 


Anonymous. 


THE  stream  is  calmest  when  it  nears  the  tide, 
The  flowers  are  sweetest  at  the  eventide, 
The  birds  most  musical  at  close  of  day, 
And  saints  divinest  when  they  pass  away. 

Morning  is  lovely,  but  a  holier  charm 
Lies  folded  in  the  evening's  robe  of  balm, 
And  weary  man  must  ever  love  her  best, 
For  morning  calls  to  toil,  but  night  brings  restf 

Until  the  evening  we  must  weep  and  toil, 
Plough  life's  stern  furrows,  dig  the  weedy  soil; 
Tread  with  sad  feet  our  rough  and  thorny  way, 
And  bear  the  heat  and  burthen  of  the  day. 

Oh,  when  our  sun  is  setting,  may  we  glide. 
Like  summer's  evening,  down  the  golden  tide ; 
And  leave  behind  us,  as  we  pass  away, 
Sweet  starry  twilight !  round  our  sleeping  clay  ! 


THE    REST  OF   HEAVEN.  383 


NO   TOSSING  OF  THE  BURNING   HEAD. 


Marianne  Farningham, 


NO  tossing  of  the  burning  head 
After  the  long  day's  closing; 
No  weary  night-long  watches  where 

The  spirit  is  reposing. 
Hot  little  hands  shall  no  more  stretch 

Imploringly  before  us ; 
We  shall  not  weep  in  hopelessness 
When  God's  own  house  is  o'er  us. 

No  crying  of  the  little  ones, 

Waking  our  feeble  pity ; 
No  groans  arise  at  eventide 

Within  the  golden  city  ; 
For  God's  own  hand  has  wiped  the  tears 

From  all  that  band  of  weepers, 
And  only  music  soft  and  low 

Awakes  the  peaceful  sleepers. 

No  aching  limbs  lie  helplessly, 
Waiting  the  Saviours  healing; 

For  all  are  whole  in  that  blest  home, 

'     And  perfect  every  feeling. 

No  sighs,  and  sobs,  and  wild  distress, 
No  dread  of  storm  or  riot ; 

But  perfect  health,  unbroken  peace, 
Amid  the  sacred  quiet. 


3^4  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

There  shall  be  no  more  pain  !     O  home 

So  far  from  danger  dreary ! 
O,  holy,  happy  resting-place 

For  all  the  worn  and  weary ! 
God  guide  our  feeble  halting  feet 

Safe  to  the  blissful  haven  ! 
God  give  us  all  His  healing  touch, 

And  bring  us  all  to  heaven  ! 


YET  A  LITTLE  CARE  AND  WEEPING. 


From  the  German. 


YET  a  little  care  and  weeping, 
Yet  a  little  toil  unsleeping 
Here  in  hope  and  trust  be  sown ! 
Steep  and  sultry  is  the  way : 
Seek  the  pilgrim's  tears  to  stay, 

Love,  that  near  him  travels  on  ! 

For  one  comfort,  from  above 
Sounds  the  voice  of  heavenly  love, — ■ 

From  the  mansions  of  the  blest, — 
*'  Here,  where  bloometh  Life's  fair  tree, 
Wiped  away  the  tear  shall  be. 

By  the  Lamb,  in  endless  rest." 

Near  is  evening,  cool  and  sweet. 
Autumn  after  summer's  heat ; 

Soon  we  cease  in  grief  to  roam. 
Hear  the  hours  that  strike  so  fast, 
Hour  by  hour,  until  the  last 

Bears  us  to  our  Father's  home  ! 


THE   REST   OF    HEAVEN.  385 

Every  pilgrim  who  has  borne 
What  we  all  must  bear  in  turn, 

Leaves  a  ray  of  golden  light  ; 
And  his  footsteps  trace  the  road 
To  the  city,  built  by  God, 

To  his  feast,  in  glory  bright. 

See  !  a  light  cloud  hovers  o'er  us, 
Of  the  loved  ones  gone  before  us 

In  the  Master's  pathway  here : 
Rise,  ye  weary  ones  ;  be  strong  ! 
Toil  and  strife  will  not  be  long, 

Victory,  rest,  and  home  are  near ! 


PASS  OVER  TO  THE  REST  OF  GOD, 


HORATIUS    BONAR. 


FROM  this  bleak  hill  of  storms, 
To  yon  warm  sunny  heights, 
Where  love  forever  shines. 

Pass  over  to  thy  rest, 
The  rest  of  God  ! 

From  hunger  and  from  thirst, 

From  toil  and  weariness, 

From  shadows  and  from  dreams, 
Pass  over  to  thy  rest, 
The  rest  of  God  ! 

25 


386  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

From  tides,  and  winds,  and  waves, 
From  shipwrecks  of  the  deep. 
From  parted  anchors  here, 

Pass  over  to  thy  rest, 
The  rest  of  God  ! 

From  weakness  and  from  pain, 
From  trembling  and  from  strife, 
From  watchings  and  from  fears, 
Pass  over  to  thy  rest, 
The  rest  of  God  ! 

From  vanity  and  lies, 
From  mockery  and  snares. 
From  disappointed  hopes. 

Pass  over  to  thy  rest, 
The  rest  of  God  ! 

From  falsehoods  of  the  age, 
From  broken  ties  and  hearts, 
From  suns  gone  down  at  noon. 

Pass  over  to  thy  rest, 
The  rest  of  God  ! 

From  unrealities, 

From  hollow  scenes  of  change, 

From  ache  and  emptiness, 

Pass  over  to  thy  rest, 
The  rest  of  God  ! 

From  this  unanchored  world, 
Whose  morrow  none  can  tell, 
From  all  things  restless  here, , 

Pass  over  to  thy  rest. 
The  rest  of  God  I 


THE    REST   OF   HEAVEN.  387 


OH  SPIRIT,  FREED  FROM  BONDAGE. 


Mary  Howitt. 


OH  Spirit,  freed  from  bondage, 
Rejoice,  thy  work  is  done  ! 
The  weary  world  is  'neath  thy  feet, 
Thou,  brighter  than  the  sun ! 

Arise,  put  on  thy  garments. 
Which  the  redeemed  win  ! 

Now  sorrow  hath  no  part  in  thee, 
Thou  sanctified  from  sin  ! 

Awake  and  breathe  the  living  air, 

Of  our  celestial  clime  ! 
Awake  to  love  that  knows  no  change, 

Thou,  who  hast  done  with  time  I 

Awake,  lift  up  thy  joyful  eyes. 
See,  all  heaven's  host  appears  ; 

And  be  thou  glad  exceedingly, 
Thou  who  hast  done  with  tears! 

Awake  !  ascend !  thou  art  not  now 
With  those  of  mortal  birth,-  — 

The  living  God  hath  touched  thy  lips. 
Thou  who  hast  done  with  earth  ! 


388  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


SWEET  MUST  IT  BE  TO  DWELL. 

SWEET  must  it  be  to  dwell  secure 
From  sinful  stain,  from  thought  impure, 
No  wandering  footstep  to  retrace, 
No  mourning  for  the  Saviour's  face  : 
And  this  our  happy  lot  shall  be 
When  we  have  crossed  the  crystal  sea. 

How  oft  the  struggling  spirit  tries 
For  blest  communion  with  the  skies  ; 
How  oft  we  pray  that  we  may  bear 
Christ's  perfect  image,  even  here ; 
And  O,  like  Jesus  we  shall  be 
When  we  have  crossed  the  crystal  sea. 

They  who  have  safely  gone  before, 
Whose  feet  grow  weary  never  more, 
Receive  in  that  dear  land  of  bliss 
All  their  souls  panted  for  in  this; 
And  their  enjoyment  ours  shall  be 
When  we  have  crossed  the  crystal  sea. 


MOURNER,  LOOK  ABOVE. 


Mary  S.   Robbins. 


ART  thou  a  wanderer?  doth  no  loved  one's  smile 
E'er  meet  thine  own,  thy  sorrows  to  beguile  ? 
In  this  wide  world,  hast  thou  no  heartfelt  claim  ? 
Lingers  there  not  within  some  cherished  name 


THE   REST   OF   HEAVEN.  389 

Of  one,  perhaps,  who  far  in  childhood's  hour, 
Won  thy  young  heart,  and  still  with  lingering  power 
Retains  the  precious  gem,  though  time  has  wove 
A  web  which  dims  the  lustre  of  thy  love  ? 
Hast  thou  no  harbor  on  life's  troubled  sea? 
Wanderer,  there's  rest  in  heaven  for  thee. 

Art  thou  a  mourner?  doth  the  cold  earth  cover 
The  forms  of  loved  ones  all,  none  left  to  hover 
Around  thy  pathway?  must  thou  tread  alone 
Life's  dreary  walk,  looking  for  naught  beyond 
To  smile  upon  thy  toil  ?  no  word  of  love 
To  recompense  thee  ?     Mourner,  look  above! 
When  life's  dull  task  is  over,  then  my  soul 
Shall  find  its  long  anticipated  goal  ; 
And  friends  shall  smile  and  welcome  thee  with  song, 
And  thine  own  voice  shall  help  the  strain  prolong. 
So  murmur  not,  for  when  from  earth  once  free, 
There's  rest  in  heaven  for  weary  souls  like  thee. 


I'M  WEARY  OF  STRAYING. 


Mrs.  Hinsdale. 


I'M  weary  of  straying  I     O  fain  would  I  rest 
In  that  far  distant  land  of  the  pure  and  the  blest, 
Where  sin  can  no  longer  its  blandishments  spread', 
And  tears  and  temptations  for  ever  have  fled. 

I  am  weary  of  hoping — where  hope  is  untrue, — 
As  fair,  but  as  fleeting,  as  morning's  bright  dew. 
I  long  for  that  land  whose  blest  promise  alone, 
Is  changeless  and  sure  as  eternity's  throne. 


390  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

I  am  weary  of  sighing  o'er  sorrows  of  earth, — 
O'er  joy's  glowing  visions,  that  fade  at  their  birth. 
O'er  the  pangs  of  the  loved,  that  we  cannot  assuage ; 
O'er  the  blightings  of  youth  and  the  weakness  of  age. 

I  am  weary,  my  Saviour,  of  grieving  thy  love, — 

Oh  when  shall  I  rest  in  thy  presence  above  ! 

I  am  weary, — but  oh,  let  me  never  repine, 

While  thy  word,  and  thy  love,  and  thy  promise  are  mine ! 


THEN  OPEN,  O  GATE  OF  SLEEP. 


Christian  Treasury. 


OPEN,  O  gate  of  sleep  ! 
I  am  weary,  and  fain  would  go 
Where  hearts  never  sorrow,  and  eyes  never  weep 

Bitterly  tears  of  woe  : 
I  would  rest  in  the  shadow,  cool  and  deep, 
Where  the  crystal  waters  flow. 

For  heavy  and  dark  doth  lie 

Death's  shadow  on  all  below: 
The  changing  beauty  of  earth  and  sky 

Decks  but  a  house  of  woe : 
There's  a  fount  of  tears  that  is  never  dry, 

A  rest  that  we  never  know. 

Then  away  to  the  beautiful  land 

Whence  the  shadow  for  aye  is  fled  ! 

I  shall  meet  the  loved  on  its  sunny  strand. 
The  loved  and  the  long-lost  dead  ; 

I  shall  welcome  a  bright  immortal  band, 
By  the  angels  gently  led. 


THE   REST  OF    HEAVEN.  39I 

Then  open,  O  gate  of  sleep ! 

I  am  weary,  and  fain  would  go 
Where  hearts  never  sorrow,  and  eyes  never  weep 

Bitterly,  tears  of  woe  : 
I  long  to  rest  in  the  shadow  deep 

Where  the  crystal  fountains  flow. 


I    THANK    THEE    FOR    THAT    WORD    OF 
PEACE. 


W.  S.  COLTON. 


"  There  remaineth  therefore  a  rest  for  the  people  of  God." 

I  THANK  Thee,  Father,  for  that  word  of  peace — 
Rest,  rest  forever  when  Life's  cares  are  o'er ; — 
Changeless  repose !  O  calm  and  sweet  release 
From  all  of  sorrow  we  have  known  before  ; 
From  sin  whose  burden  we  shall  feel  no  more — 

Freedom  how  blest  !  and  from  the  sinner's  ways. 
Who  shall  not  follow  to  that  heavenly  shore, 
Nor  with  his  evil  cloud  the  unsullied  rays 
Of  love  and  joy  that  shine  through  everlasting  days! 

I  know,  O  Father,  that  Thy  works  are  fair : — 

This   strange,  bright   world   was   builded  by  Thine 
hand. 

And  round  it  the  unmeasured  heights  of  air 

Rise,  purple-arched  and  vast,  o'er  every  land  ; — 


392  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

The  storm-vexed  ocean  chafing  on  the  strand  ; 

The  mountains  proudly  pointing  to  the  sky  ; 
The  ancient  forests,  breeze  or  tempest-fanned — 

All  these  are  beautiful,  and  fill  the  eye, 
And  crowd  the  mind  with  thoughts  of  that  which  can- 
not die. 

Yet  mid  these  glorious  things  the  spirit  mourns. 

And  finds  not  rest  in  all  their  loveliness  ; 
A  hidden  fever  still  within  it  burns, 

A  secret  sorrow  it  may  not  confess — 
A  feeling  of  earth's  utter  nothingness 

It  cannot  bid  depart ; — but  bends  again 
Beneath  its  load,  nor  finds  that  burden  less, 

And  longs  some  quiet  place — but  longs  in  vain ! — 
Some  port  to  make,  like  ships  that  breast  the  troubled 
main. 

Oft  have  I  walked  amid  the  busy  throng 

Of  some  great  city,  and  with  earnest  thought, 
As  moved  the  unnumbered  waves  of  life  along 

In  rushing  conflict,  from  each  face  have  sought 
To  learn  that  being's  history,  inwrought 

And  speaking  there  ; — to  know  the  inmost  soul. 
The  mystic  lines  no  other  eyes  have  caught 

Of  joy  or  woe — what  fears,  what  hopes  control 
Its  present  life,  and  mark  beyond  its  future  goal. 

But  all  with  joyless  and  unsettled  mien 

Passed  feverish  by  ;  nor  aught  of  peace  or  rest 

Seemed  they  to  know ;  each  countenance  was  seen 
To  show — sad  proof! — its  owner  all  unblest : 


THE   REST   OF   HEAVEN.  393 

Some  heeded  pleasure,  and  her  soft  behest, 
Where'er  it  lead  them,  they  must  still  obey, 

Insanely  sporting  on  the  dizzy  crest 

Ridged  o'er  her  damning  gulf,,  wherein  alway 

The   fair,   foul   goddess   leaves    her   hapless,   mangled 
prey. 

Some  wished  for  Fame,  and  others  sighed  for  gold, 

For  piled-up  mountains  of  the  shining  dust  ; 
And  from  the  poor  and  needy  turned  with  cold, 

Unpitying  eyes;  who  made  not  God  their  trust, 
But  riches ;  and  with  fierce,  devouring  lust 

Grasped  its  vain  honors,  caring  not  if  o'er 
The  bright,  immortal  spirit  mouldering  rust 

And  mildew  crept,  corroding  to  the  core, 
And  eating  out  its  life  and  peace  forever  more. 

O  world  !  'twere  happiness  in  Life's  young  spring 

If  one  might  griefless  know  how  poor  thou  art  ; 
And  early  find  that  all  thy  pleasures  bring 

No  joy  to  satisfy  the  longing  heart 
Of  one  immortal.     Oh  !  from  thee  to  part. 

When  God  shall  will  it,  to  some  bright  abode 
Of  sinless  peace  ! — To  leave  thy  sickening  mart 

Of  empty  shows,  and  swiftly  climb  the  road 
That  leads  from  Earth  to  Christ,  to  glory  and  to  God  ! 

So  Man  and  nature,  powerless,  cannot  fill 
The  vast  desires  that  in  me  burning  rise, 

And  round  the  far  and  dim  horizon  still 

From  them  no  ray  of  promise  greets  my  eyes  ; — 


394  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Nor  breaks  the  day,  nor  kindle  up  the  skies 

With    morn's    sweet    Hght — but    dark   the    shadows 
loom 

Before  me,  where  my  lonely  pathway  lies 
Along  Life's  journey  : — Yet  amid  the  gloom 

There  gleams  one  fixed  star,  a  light  beyond  the  tomb. 

Yes!  there  is  peace! — beyond  this  sphere  of  time 

Its  dwelling-place ;  and  there  the  weary  be 
At  rest ;  and  from  that  blissful  and  eternal  clime 

Sorrow  and  si7i — oh  !  thought  of  joy  ! — shall  flee 
Away  forever;  and  a  boundless  sea 

Of  living  light  its  sweet,  glad  waves  shall  roll 
In  everlasting  splendor  ; — they  shall  see 

As  eye  to  eye ;  and  God's  supreme  control 
O'er  Heaven  extend,  and  bind  each  ransomed  soul  to 
soul. 


BEYOND  THIS  TOILSOME  CLIME. 


Anonymous. 


NO  quiet  here! 
But  far  above,  in  regions  of  the  blest, 
The  weary  soul  shall  find  its  lasting  rest ! 

There's  quiet  tJiere  ! 
In  that  far  Home  beyond  this  toilsome  clime, 
A  calm  and  holy  quiet,  through  all  time. 

No  gladness  here  ! 
But  in  that  wondrous  home  to  which  we  go, 
Eternal  joys  through  endless  ages  flow  : 


THE    REST   OF   HEAVEN.  395 

There's  gladness  there : — 
And  when  this  cloud  of  earth  has  passed  away, 
We  shall  go  in  to  share  eternal  day. 

No  sunshine  here  ! 
The  shadows  always  hover  close  around; 
But,  oh,  above  !  such  radiant  beams  abound, 

There's  sunshine  there^ 
Where  He,  the  '■'•  Sun  of  Righteousness,''  doth  shine, 
And  earth-worn  souls  rejoice  in  light  divine. 

No  goodness  here ! 
Sin  has  so  many  snares  for  our  weak  hearts : 
But  from  that  home  all  sinfulness  departs. 

There's  goodness  there^ 
Shed  from  the  "fulness  of  the  Holy  One  ;'' 
And  robes  of  righteousness  from  Christ  the  Son 

No  treasure  here  ! 
Nothing  that's  worthy  of  our  love  and  trust ! 
But  wealth  is  tJiere  that  time  can  never  rust : 

There's  treasure  there, — 
Laid  up  by  that  same  Father's  loving  hand, 
Who  gently  leads  us  towards  that  Better  Land. 


396  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


THAT  WEARINESS  MAY  TOSS  HIM   TO   MY 
BREAST. 


George  Herbert. 


WHEN  God  at  first  made  man, 
Having  a  glass  of  blessings  standing  by, 
*'  Let  us,"  said  he,  "  pour  on  him  all  we  can  ; 
Let  the  world's  riches  which  dispersed  lie, 
Contract  into  a  span." 

So  Strength  first  gave  away  ; 

Then  Beauty  flowed,  then  Wisdom,  Honor,  Pleasure  ; 
When  almost  all  was  out,  God  made  a  stay. 
Perceiving  that  alone  of  all  His  treasure. 
Rest  in  the  bottom  lay. 

*'  P^or  if  I  should,"  said  He, 

"  Bestow  this  jewel  also  on  my  creature, 
He  would  adore  my  gifts  instead  of  me. 
And  rest  in  nature,  not  the  GOD  of  nature — 
So  both  should  losers  be. 

"  Yet  let  him  keep  the  rest — 

But  keep  them  with  repining  restlessness  ; 
Let  him  be  rich  and  weary ;  that  at  least, 
If  goodness  lead  him  not,  yet  weariness 

May  toss  him  to  my  breast." 


THE   REST   OF   HEAVEN.  397 


FIRST   THE  SORROWFUL,  AND  THEN  THE 

GLAD. 


HORATIUS   BONAR. 


"T^IS  first  the  true,  and  then  the  beautiful  ; 

JL      Not  first  the  beautiful  and  then  the  true : 
First  the  wild  moor,  with  rock  and  reed  and  pool, 

Then  the  gay  garden  rich  in  scent  and  hue. 

Not  first  the  glad,  and  then  the  sorrowful ; 

But  first  the  sorrowful,  and  then  the  glad : 
Tears  for  a  day,  for  earth  of  tears  is  full ; 

Then  we  forget  that  we  were  ever  sad. 

Not  first  the  bright,  and  after  that  the  dark  ; 

But  first  the  dark,  and  after  that  the  bright  : 
First  the  thick  cloud,  and  then  the  rainbow's  arc ; 

First  the  dark  grave,  then  resurrection  light. 

'T  is  first  the  night — stern  night  of  storm  and  war, 
Long  night  of  heavy  clouds  and  veiled  skies  ; 

Then  the  fair  sparkle  of  the  Morning  Star, 
That  bids  the  saint  awake,  and  day  arise. 


39^  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


SPIRIT,  THY  LABOR  IS  O'ER. 


[Wolfgang  Mozart,  the  great  German  composer,  died  at  Vienna  in  the  year  1791. 
His  sweetest  song  was  the  last  he  sung — the  Regniem.  He  had  been  employed 
upon  this  exquisite  piece  for  several  weeks,  his  soul  filled  with  inspirations  of  rich- 
est melody,  and  already  claiming  kindred  with  immortality.  After  giving  it  its 
last  touch,  and  breathing  into  it  that  undying  spirit  of  song  which  was  to  conse- 
crate it  through  all  time,  as  his  "  cygnean  strain,"  he  fell  into  a  gentle  and  quiet 
slumber.  At  length  the  light  footsteps  of  his  daughter  Emile  awoke  him.  "  Come 
hither,"  said  he,  "  my  Emilie — my  task  is  done — the  Requiem — my  Requiem  is  fin- 
ished." "  Say  not  so,  dear  father,"  said  the  gentle  girl,  interrupting  him  as  tears 
stood  in  her  eyes.  "  You  must  be  better — you  look  better,  for  even  now  your 
cheek  has  a  glow  upon  it — I  am  sure  we  will  nurse  you  well  again — let  me  bring 
you  something  refreshing."  '*  Do  not  deceive  yourself,  my  love,"  said  the  dying 
father,  "  this  wasted  form  can  never  be  restored  by  human  aid.  From  heaven's 
mercy  alone  do  I  look  for  aid,  in  this  my  dying  hour.  You  spoke  of  refreshment, 
my  Emilie — take  these  my  last  notes — sit  down  to  my  piano  here — sing  with  them 
the  hymn  of  your  sainted  mother — let  me  once  more  hear  those  tones  which  have 
been  so  long  my  solacement  and  delight."  Emilie  obeyed,  and  with  a  voice  en- 
riched with  tenderest  emotion,  sung  the  following  stanzas.  As  she  concluded, 
she  dwelt  for  a  moment  upon  the  low  melancholy  notes  of  the  piece,  and  then 
turning  from  the  instrument,  looked  in  silence  for  the  approving  smile  of  her 
father.  It  was  the  still  passionless  smile  which  the  rapt  and  joyous  spirit  left— 
witl>  the  seal  of  death  upon  those  features.] 


SPIRIT!  thy  labor  is  o'er! 
Thy  term  of  probation  is  run, 
Thy  steps  are  now  bound  for  the  untrodden  shore 
And  the  race  of  immortals  begun. 


Spirit !  look  not  on  the  strife, 
Or  the  pleasures  of  earth  with  regret — 
Pause  not  on  the  threshold  of  limitless  life, 
To  mourn  for  the  day  that  is  set. 


THE    REST   OF    HEAVEN.  399 

Spirit !  no  fetters  can  bind, 
No  wicked  have  power  to  molest  ; 
There  the  weary,  Hke  thee — the  wretched  shall  find ; 
A  heaven,  a  mansion  of  rest. 


Spirit !  how  bright  is  the  road 
For  which  thou  art  now  on  the  wing, 
Thy  home  it  will  be,  with  thy  Saviour  and  God, 
Their  loud  hallelujah  to  sing. 


HAVE  YE  FOUND  THAT  HAPPY  CITY? 


From  Household  Words. 


OH  birds  from  out  the  east,  oh  birds  from  out  the 
west, 

Have  ye  found  that  happy  City,  in  all  your  weary 
quest? 

Tell  me,  tell  me,  from  earth's  wanderings  may  the 
heart  find  glad  surcease  ; 

Can  ye  show  me,  as  an  earnest,  any  ohve-branch  of 
peace  ? 

I  am  weary  of  life's  troubles,  of  its  sin,  and  toil,  and 
care ; 

I  am  faithless,  crushing  in  my  heart  so  many  a  fruit- 
less prayer ; 

Oh  birds  from  out  the  east,  oh  birds  from  out  the  west, 

Can  ye  tell  me  of. that  City,  **  the  name  of  which  is 
Rest?" 


400  HEAVEN    IN    SONG. 

Say,  doth   a    dreamy    atmosphere    that    blessed    City 

crown  ? 
Are    there    couches    spread    for   sleeping,  softer  than 

eider-down  ? 
Does  the  silver  sound  of  waters,  falling  'twixt  its  mar- 
ble walls, 
Hush  its  solemn  silence,  even  into  stiller  intervals? 
Does  the  poppy  shed  its  influence  there,  or  doth  the 

fabled  Moly 
With  its  peaceful,  leaden  Lethe,  bathe  the  eyes  with 

slumber  holy? 
Do  they  never  wake   to  sorrow,  who   after   toilsome 

quest. 
Have  entered  in  that   City,  "  the  name  of  which  is 

Rest?^' 


Doth  the  fancy  wile  not  there  for  aye  ?  Is  the  rest- 
less soul's  endeavor 

Hushed  in  a  hymn  of  solemn  calm,  forever  and  for- 
ever? 

Are  human  natures  satisfied  of  their  intense  de- 
sire— 

Is  there  no  more  good  beyond  to  seek,  or  do  they 
not  aspire? 

But  weary,  weary,  of  the  oar,  within  its  yellow  sun 

Do  they  lie  and  eat  the  lotus-leaves,  and  dream  life's 
toil  is  done  ? 

Oh  tell  me,  do  they  there  forget  what  here  hath  made 
them  blest  ? 

Nor  sigh  again  for  home  and  friends,  in  the  City  called 
Rest? 


THE   REST   OF   HEAVEN.  40I 

Oh,  little  birds,  fly  east  again ;  oh,  little  birds,  fly  west ; 
Ye    have   found    no   happy    city,    in    all    your   weary 

quest  ; — 
Still  shall  ye  find  no  spot  of  rest  wherever  ye  may 

stray, 
And  still  like  ye  the  weary  soul  must  wing  its  weary 

way! 
There   sleepeth   no   such   city  within  the  wide  earth's 

bound — 
Nor  hath  the  dreaming  fancy  yet-  its  blissful  portals 

found  ! 
We  are  but  children,   crying  here,  upon  a   Mother's 

breast, 
For  life,  and  peace,  and  blessedness,  and  for  eternal 

rest. 


Bless  God  !  I  hear  a  still,  small  voice,  above  life's  clam'- 

rous  din. 
Saying,  "  Faint  not,  oh  weary  one,  thou   yet    mayst 

enter  in. 
That  City  is  prepared  for  those  who  well  do  win  the 

fight. 
Who  tread  the  wine-press,  till  its  blood  hath   washed 

them  pure  and  white  ; 
Within  it  is  no  darkness,  nor  any  baleful  flower 
Shall   there  oppress  thy  waking  eyes  with  stupefying 

power  ; 
It  lieth  calm,  within  the  light   of  God's  Peace-giving 

breast ; 
Its  walls   are   called    Salvation — that   City's   name    is 

'  Rest.*  " 
26 


402  HKAVEN   IN   SONG. 


YE  GOLDEN  LAMPS  FAREWELL. 


Philip  Doddridge. 


YE  golden  lamps  of  Heaven,  farewell, 
With  all  your  feeble  light ; 
Farewell,  thou  ever-changing  moon, 
Pale  empress  of  the  night. 

And  thou,  refulgent  orb  of  day, 

In  brighter  flames  arrayed  ; 
My  soul  that  springs  beyond  thy  sphere 

No  more  demands  thine  aid. 

Ye  stars  are  but  the  shining  dust 

Of  my  divine  abode, 
The  pavement  of  those  heavenly  courts, 

Where  I  shall  reign  with  God. 

The  Father  of  Eternal  Light 
Shall  There  His  beams  display; 

Nor  shall  one  moment's  darkness  mix 
With  that  unvaried  day  ! 

No  more  the  drops  of  piercing  grief 

Shall  swell  into  mine  eyes, 
Nor  the  meridian  sun  decline 

Amidst  those  brighter  skies. 

There,  all  the  million  of  the  saints 

Shall  in  one  song  unite, 
And  each  the  bliss  of  all  shall  view, 

With  infinite  delight. 


THE    REST   OF   HEAVEN.  403 


REST  WHEN  LIFE  IS  DONE. 


Effie  Johnson. 


THERE  remaineth,  it  is  written, 
For  the  people  of  our  God, 
Rest,  a  peaceful  rest  in  heaven. 

When  we  sleep  beneath  the  sod. 
When  these  fragile  forms  are  resting 

In  their  low  and  quiet  bed, 
And  the  beauteous  flowers  are  springing 

From  the  turf  above  our  head, 
And  the  holy  angels  keeping 

Watch  above  our  sleeping  dust, 
Then  our  ransomed  souls  are  resting 

With  the  God  in  whom  we  trust. 
Now,  each  fleeting  hour  is  bearing 

Down  to  death's  cold,  sullen  stream, 
Souls  immortal,  souls  unransomed, 

Rouse  thee,  'tis  no  time  to  dream  ! 
Christian,  gird  thee  with  thine  armor, 

Soon,  oh,  soon,  thou'lt  lay  it  down  ! 
And  thy  sword  and  shield  and  helmet, 

Change  for  an  immortal  crown. 
Let  thy  crown  be  glittering  brightly 

With  the  souls  whom  thou  hast  won, 
Then  thy  ransomed  soul  will  sweetly 

Rest  in  heaven  when  life  is  done. 


404  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


FAR  FROM  THE  DISCORD  LOUD. 


Marianne  Farningham. 


FAR  from  the  discord  loud, 
Far  from  the  striving  crowd, 
Far  from  the  din, 
Far  from  the  burning  tears, 
Far  from  the  crushing  fears. 
Far  from  the  sin. 

Up  beyond  toil  and  care. 
Far  from  the  tainted  air. 

Far  from  all  pain, 
Out  of  the  reach  of  crime, 
Far  from  this  changing  clime. 

We  shall  remain. 

Where  the  redeemed  and  blest 
Ever  shall  sweetly  rest, 

No  more  to  roam  ; 
Where  the  curse  dwelleth  not, 
Sorrow  is  all  forgot — 

There  is  our  home. 

Where  the  joy-founts  are  stirred. 
Where  the  harp  note  is  heard, 

Where  the  palms  wave, 
Where  the  white-robed  shall  glide, 
Where  the  death  dews  are  dried, 

Where  is  no  grave. 


THE   REST   OF   HEAVEN.  405 

There  is  our  glorious  home  : 
Why  do  we  longer  roam 

Far  from  its  peace  ? 
Soon  may  the  hill  be  gained, 
Soon  be  the  rest  obtained, 

Soon  the  toil  cease. 

Brother,  press  onward  then : 
Why  should  we  Hnger  when 

Home  is  in  sight  ? 
On  while  the  day  is  here, 
On  while  the  way  is  clear, 

On  ere  the  night ! 


THOSE  ENDLESS  SABBATHS  SPENT. 


From  Lyra  Eucharistica. 


IS  there  a  day 
In  all  the  ever-brightening  chain 
Of  blessed  Paradisal  gain 
Most  blessed  alway? 
Does  Sunday  fall  there  with  its  thrill 
Of  joy  increasing  still? 

When  the  blue  sky 
Seems  but  the  intervening  screen 
Earth's  nave  and  Heaven's  choir  between ; 

Do  those  on  high 
Unite  with  our  less  worthy  throng 

In  one  Cathedral  song? 


406  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Ah  !  who  can  tell  ? 
Some  memory  that  earthward  clings, 
Some  sympathy  with  former  things, 

Some  soft  pure  spell, 
May  make  the  first  day  of  earth's  seven 

The  best,  e'en  in  Heaven. 

Our  Sundays  seem 
To  meet  those  endless  Sabbaths  spent 
In  holy  joy  and  sweet  content 

Beside  Love's  stream, 
That  bears  all  souls  yet  on  its  breast 

Unto  eternal  Rest. 


SORROW  AND  SIGHING  SHALL  FLEE  AWAY. 


Marianne  Farningham. 


NO  shadows  gather 
Where  undimm'd  eyes  gaze  on  the  Father : 
There  the  thick  veil  of  sin  is  rent, 
And  the  dark  night  of  woe  is  spent ; 
There,  souls  'mid  clouds  of  darkness  are  not  groping, 
And  vainly  hoping  ! 

There  is  no  yearning, 
No  deep  unrest,  no  spirit  burning, 

No  arms  outstretched,  to  clasp  the  air; 
No  breaking  hearts  ;  no  wild,  wild  prayer  ; 
No  grim  despair  to  blight  the  mind  with  madness ; 
No  sin,  no  sadness! 


THE   REST  OF   HEAVEN.  407 

There  is  no  sorrow, 
No  storm-winds  wail  of  ill  to-morrow ; 
But  clear,  smooth  waters'  flow, 
And  music  soft  and  low ; 
And  peace-words  from  God's  fount  of  love  are  gushing. 
All  sorrow  hushing ! 

There  is  no  sighing 
O'er  the  unloving  or  the  dying : 

There  eloquent  smiles  the  fond  lips  wreathe ; 
There  hearts  of  deathless  friendship  breathe ; 
There,  where  love  tokens  evermore  are  thronging, 
Is  no  more  longing ! 

Home  of  the  weary, 
Of  all  the  tempest-wrecked  and  dreary ; 
God,  guide  us  to  thy  brilliant  shore. 
Where — wild  waves  swelling  high  no  more — 
Sorrow  and  sighing  shade  the  spirit  never — 
Flown,  flown  forever! 


GOD'S    OWN   SMILE,   FOREVER  AND   FOR- 
EVER. 


Jane  Crewdson. 


WHAT  then ?     Why  then  another  pilgrim  song  ; 
And  then,  a  hush  of  rest,  divinely  granted  ; 
And  then,  a  thirsty  stage  ;  (ah,  me,  so  long !) 
And  then,  a  brook  just  where  it  most  is  wanted. 


408  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

What  then?     The  pitchmg  of  the  evening  tent ; 

And  then,  perchance,  a  pillow  rough  and  thorny ; 
And  then,  some  sweet  and  tender  message,  sent 

To  cheer  the  faint  one  for  to-morrow's  journey. 

What  then  ?     The  wailing  of  the  midnight  wind  ; 

A  feverish  sleep ;  a  heart  oppressed  and  aching  ; 
And  then,  a  little  water-cruise  to  find 

Close  by  my  pillow,  ready  for  my  waking. 

What  then  ?     I  am  not  careful  to  inquire ; 

I  know  there  will  be  tears,  and  fears,  and  sorrow ; 
And  then  a  loving  Saviour  drawing  nigher, 

And  saying,  '*'  I  will  answer  for  the  morrow." 

What  then  ?     For  all  my  sins  His  pardoning  grace  ; 

For  all  my  wants  and  woes  His  loving  kindness; 
For  darkest  shades,  the  shining  of  God's  face, 

And  Christ's  own  hand  to  lead  me  in  my  blindness. 

What  then  ?     A  shadowy  valley,  lone  and  dim  ; 

And  then,  a  deep  and  darkly  rolling  river; 
And  then,  a  flood  of  light — a  seraph's  hymn, 

And  God's  own  smile,  forever  and.  forever. 


SAFE  HOME  AT  LAST. 

SAFE  Home,  safe  Home  in  port  ! 
Rent  cordage,  shattered  deck, 
Torn  sails,  provision  short, 
And  only  not  a  wreck  : 


THE    REST   OF   HEAVEN.  4O9 

But  O  the  joy  upon  the  shore, 
To  tell  our  voyage  perils  o'er! 

The  prize,  the  prize  secure  ! 

The  warrior  nearly  fell ; 
Bare  all  he  could  endure, 
And  bare  not  always  well : 
But  he  may  smile  at  troubles  gone 
Who  sets  the  victor-garland  on  ! 

No  more  the  foe  can  harm : 

No  more  of  leaguer'd  camp, 
And  cry  of  night  alarm, 
And  need  of  ready  lamp  : 
And  yet  how  nearly  had  he  fail'd, — 
How  nearly  had  that  foe  prevailed  ! 

The  lamb  is  in  the  fold 

In  perfect  safety  penn'd  ; 
The  lion  once  had  hold. 

And  thought  to  make  an  end  ; 
But  One  came  by  with  wounded  side, 
And  for  the  sheep  the  Shepherd  died. 


A  REST  HERE  HAVE  I  NEVER. 


Paul  Gerhardt  :  Translated  by  John  Krll.y. 


A  REST  here  have  I  never, 
A  guest  on  earth  am  I, 
Heav'n  will  be  mine  forever, 
My  Fatherland's  on  high. 


410  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Here  up  and  down  I'm  driven  ; 

In  rest  eternal  there, 
God's  gift  of  grace  is  given 

That  endeth  toil  and  care. 

What  hath  my  whole  life  ever 

From  youth  been  to  this  hour, 
But  labor  ceasing  never, 

As  long  as  1  have  pow'r 
To  tell  of;  days  of  anguish 

I've  past,  and  oft  the  night 
In  sorrow  did  I  languish 

Until  the  morning  light. 

And  on  the  ways  I've  wander'd 

What  storms  have  terrified. 
It  blew,  rain'd,  lighten'd,  thunder'd, 

Fear  was  on  every  side. 
Hate,  envy,  opposition 

Rag'd,  undeserv'd  by  me, 
This  was  the  sad  condition 

I  must  bear  patiently. 

So  liv'd  the  honor'd  fathers 

In  whose  footsteps  we  tread. 
From  whom  the  saint  oft  gathers 

The  wisdom  he  may  need. 
Of  trial  what  full  measure 

Had  father  Abraham, 
Ere  he  attain'd  his  pleasure, 

To  his  right  dwelling  came. 


THE   REST   OF   HEAVEN.  4II 

How  rough  too  and  uneven 

The  way  that  Isaac  trod, 
And  Jacob,  who  had  striven 

And  had  prevail'd  with  God  ; 
What  bitter  grief  and  wearing 

Felt  he,  what  woe  and  smart ; 
In  fear  and  in  despairing 

Oft  sank  his  fainting  heart. 

The  holy  souls  and  blessed 

Went  forward  on  their  race. 
They  chang'd  with  hearts  distressed 

Their  wonted  dwelling-place  : 
They  hither  went  and  thither, 

Great  crosses  bore  each  day, 
Till  death  came  to  deliver. 

Them  in  the  grave  to  lay. 

In  patience  am  I  giving 

Myself  to  just  such  woe  ? 
Could  I  be  better  living 

Than  such  have  liv'd  below? 
Here  must  we  suffer  ever. 

Here  must  we  upwards  strive  ; 
Who  fights  not  well  shall  never 

In  joy  eternal  live. 

While  on  the  earth  I'm  staying, 

My  life  shall  thus  be  spent, 
I  would  not  be  delaying 

For  aye  in  this  strange  tent. 


412  HEAVEN    IN    SONG. 

Along  the  paths  I  wander 
That  lead  me  to  my  home, 

God  boundless  comfort  yonder 
Will  give  me  when  I  come. 

My  home  is  high  above  me, 

Where  angel  hosts  for  aye 
Praise  Him  whose  heart  doth  love  me, 

Who  ruleth  all  each  day, 
Who  aye  preserves  and  beareth 

All  in  His  hand  of  might, 
Who  orders  and  prepareth 

What  good  seems  in  His  sight. 

For  home  my  tir'd  heart  yearneth, 

I'd  gladly  thither  go, 
From  earth  away  it  turneth 

From  all  Fve  here  pass'd  through. 
The  longer  here  Fm  staying 

I  less  of  pleasure  taste. 
My  spirit's  thirst  allaying, 

The  world's  an  arid  waste. 

The  dwelling  is  unholy. 

The  trouble  is  too  great. 
Why  com'st  Thou,  Lord,  so  slowly 

To  free  me  from  this  state? 
Come,  make  a  happy  ending 

Of  all  my  wanderings. 
Relief  by  Thy  pow'r  sending, 

From  all  mv  sufferino;s. 


THE   REST   OF   HEAVEN.  413 

Where  I've  so  long  remained 

Is  not  my  proper  home ; 
When  my  life's  end  is  gained, 

Then  forth  from  it  I'll  come, 
What  here  I've  needed  ever 

I'll  put  it  all  away ; 
When  soul  and  body  sever, 

Me  in  the  grave  they'll  lay. 

Thou,  who  my  Joy  art  ever, 

And  of  my  life  the  Light, 
When  death  life's  thread  doth  sever, 

Bring'st  me  to  heav'n  so  bright, 
To  mansions  everlasting, 

Where  I  shall  ever  shine, 
E'en  as  the  sun,  while  tasting 

Of  pleasures  all  divine. 

There  I'll  be  ever  living 

Not  merely  as  a  guest. 
With  those  who  crowns  receiving 

From  Thee  are  ever  bless'd  ; 
ril  celebrate  in  glory 

Thine  ev'ry  mighty  deed, 
My  portion  have  before  Thee, 

From  every  evil  freed. 


414  HEAVEN   IN  SONG. 


LET  ME  HASTE  TO  JOIN  THY  BLISS. 


HORATIUS   BONAR. 


OSAFE  at  home,  where  the  dark  tempter  roams 
not, 
How  I  have  envied  thy  far  happier  lot ! 
Already  resting  where  the  evil  comes  not, 
The  tear,  the  toil,  the  woe,  the  sin  forgot. 

O  safe  in  port,  where  the  rough  billow  breaks  not, 
Where  the  wild  sea-moan  saddens  thee  no  more ; 

Where  the  remorseless  stroke  of  tempest  shakes  not ; — 
W^hen,  when  shall  I  too  gain  that  tranquil  shore  ? 

O  bright,  amid  the  brightness  all  eternal, 

When  shall  I  breathe  with  thee  the  purer  air? — 

Air  of  a  land  whose  clime  is  ever  vernal, 
A  land  without  a  serpent  or  a  snare. 

Away,  above  the  scenes  of  guilt  and  folly, 
Beyond  this  desert's  heat  and  dreariness, 

Safe  in  the  city  of  the  ever-holy. 

Let  me  make  haste  to  join  thy  earlier  bliss. 

Another  battle  fought,  and  oh,  not  lost^ — 
Tells  of  the  ending  of  this  fight  and  thrall, 

Another  ridge  of  time's  lone  moorland  crossed, 
Gives  nearer  prospect  of  the  jasper  wall. 


THE   REST   OF   HEAVEN.  415 

Just  gone  within  the  veil,  where  I  shall  follow, 
Not  far  before  me,  hardly  out  of  sight — 

I  down  beneath  thee  in  this  cloudy  hollow, 
And  thou  far  up  on  yonder  sunny  height. 

Gone  to  begin  a  new  and  happier  story, 

Thy  bitterer  tale  of  earth  now  told  and  done ; 

These  outer  shadows  for  that  inner  glory 
Exchanged  for  ever. — O  thrice  blessed  one ! 

O  freed  from  fetters  of  this  lonesome  prison, 
How  I  shall  greet  thee  in  that  day  of  days, 

When  He  who  died,  yea  rather  who  is  risen, 

Shall  these  frail  frames  from  dust  and  darkness  raise. 


HARK!  ANGELIC  SONGS  ARE  SWELLING. 


Frederick  William  Fabek. 


H 


ARK !  hark !  my  soul !  angelic  songs  are   swell- 


O'er  earth's  green  fields  and  ocean's  wave-beat  shore, 
How  sweet  the  truth  those  blessed  strains  are  teUing, 
Of  that  new  life,  when  sin  shall  be  no  more. 

Darker  than  night  life's  shadows  fall  around  us, 
And  like  benighted  men  we  miss  our  mark: 
God  hides  Himself,  and  grace  has  scarcely  found  us. 
Ere  death  finds  out  his  victims  in  the  dark. 


4l6  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Onward  we  go,  for  still  we  hear  them  singing, 
*'  Come,  weary  souls,  for  Jesus  bids  you  come," 
And  through  the  dark,  its  echoes  sweetly  ringing. 
The  music  of  the  Gospel  leads  us  home. 

Far,  far  away,  like  bells  at  evening  pealing, 
The  voice  of  Jesus  sounds  o'er  land  and  sea, 
And  laden  souls  by  thousands  meekly  stealing, 
Kind  Shepherd,  turn  their  weary  steps  to  Thee. 

Rest  comes  at  last,  though  life  be  long  and  dreary, 
The  day  must  dawn,  and  darksome  night  be  past. 
All  journeys  end  in  welcomes  to  the  weary. 
And  heaven,  the  heart's  true  home,  will  come  at  last. 


OH,  WHAT  A  MIGHTY  CHANGE. 


Charles  Wesley. 


OH,  what  a  mighty  change 
Shall  Jesus'  sufferers  know  ! 
While  o'er  the  happy  plains  we  range, 

Incapable  of  woe. 
No  ill-requited  love 

Shall  there  our  spirits  wound  ; 
No  base  ingratitude  above. 
No  sin  in  heaven  is  found. 

Nor  slightest  touch  of  pain, 

Nor  sorrow's  least  alloy-, 
Can  violate  our  rest,  or  stain 

Our  purity  of  joy. 


THE   REST   OF   HEAVEN.  417 

In  that  eternal  day 

No  clouds  nor  tempests  rise  : 
There  gushing  tears  are  wiped  away 

Forever  from  our  eyes. 

This  languishing  desire 

Which  now  for  heaven  we  feel 
Shall  there  delightfully  expire 

In  joy  ineffable. 
The  weight  of  glorious  bliss 

That  to  our  share  shall  fall, 
Not  angel-tongue  can  half  express  ; 

But  we  shall  have  it  all. 


IN  THE  CHRISTIAN'S  HOME  IN  GLORY 


For  we  which  have  believed  do  enter  into  rest. 


IN  the  Christian's  home  in  glory, 
There  remains  a  land  of  rest  : 
There  my  Saviour's  gone  before  me, 
To  fulfil  my  soul's  request. 

There  is  rest  for  the  weary, 
There  is  rest  for  the  weary. 
On  the  other  side  of  Jordan, 
In  the  sweet  fields  of  Eden, 
Where  the  tree  of  life  is  blooming. 
There  is  rest  for  you. 
27 


41 8  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

He  is  fitting  up  my  mansion, 
Which  eternally  shall  stand  ; 

For  my  stay  shall  not  be  transient 
In  that  holy,  happy  land. 
There  is  rest,  etc. 

Death  itself  shall  then  be  vanquished, 
And  his  sting  shall  be  withdrawn. 

Shout  for  gladness,  O  ye  ransomed ! 

Hail  with  joy  the  rising  morn  ! 

There  is  rest,  etc. 

Sing,  oh,  sing,  ye  heirs  of  glory  ! 

Shout  your  triumphs  as  you  go  : 
Zion's  gates  will  open  for  you  ; 

You  shall  find  an  entrance  through. 
There  is  rest,  etc. 


THERE  IS  AN  HOUR  OF  HALLOWED  PEACE. 


William  B.  Tappan. 


THERE  is  an  hour  of  hallowed  peace 
For  those  with  cares  oppressed, 
When  sighs  and  sorrowing  tears  shall  cease, 
And  all  be  hushed  to  rest. 

'Ti5  then  the  soul  is  freed  from  fears 

And  doubts  that  here  annoy : 
Then  they  that  oft  have  sown  in  tears 

Shall  reap  again  in  joy. 


THE    REST   OF    HEAVEN.  4I9 

There  is  a  home  of  sweet  repose, 

Where  storms  assail  no  more  : 
The  stream  of  endless  pleasure  flows 

On  that  celestial  shore. 

There  smiling  peace  with  love  appears, 

And  bliss  without  alloy  ; 
There  they  that  once  have  sown  in  tears 

Now  reap  eternal  joy. 


WHEN  I  CAN    READ  MY  TITLE  CLEAR. 


Isaac  Watts. 


WHEN  I  can  read  my  title  clear 
To  mansions  in  the  skies, 
ril  bid  farewell  to  every  fear, 
And  wipe  my  weeping  eyes.    ' 

Should  earth  against  my  soul  engage, 
And  hellish  darts  be  hurled, 

Then  I  can  smile  at  Satan's  rage, 
And  face  a  frowning  world. 

Let  cares  like  a  wild  deluge  come, 

And  storms  of  sorrow  fall ; 
May  I  but  safely  reach  my  home, 

My  God,  my  heaven,  my  all. 

There  shall  I  bathe  my  weary  soul 

In  seas  of  heavenly  rest, 
And  not  a  wave  of  trouble  roll 

Across  my  peaceful  breast. 


420  HEAVEN  IN  SONG. 


REST    FOR  THE  TOILING  HAND-. 


HORATIUS   BONAS. 


REST  for  the  toiling  hand, 
Rest  for  the  anxious  brow. 
Rest  for  the  weary,  way-worn  feet, 
Rest  from  all  labor  now. 

Rest  for  the  fevered  brain, 

Rest  for  the  throbbing  eye  : 
Through  these  parched  lips  of  thine,  no  more 

Shall  pass  the  moan  or  sigh. 

Soon  shall  the  trump  of  God 

Give  olit  the  welcome  sound 
That  shakes  thy  silent  chamber-walls, 

And  breaks  the  turf-sealed  ground. 

Ye  dwellers  in  the  dust, 

Awake  !  come  forth  and  sing  I 
Sharp  has  your  frost  of  winter  been, 

But  bright  shall  be  your  spring. 

'Twas  sown  in  weakness  here ; 

'Twill  then  be  raised  in  power: 
That  which  was  sown  an  earthly  seed 

Shall  rise  a  heavenly  flower. 


THE    REST   OF    HEAVEN.  42: 


THRO'  LIFE,  THRO'  DEATH,  TO  HIS  ETER- 
NAL   REST. 


Anohymods. 


YES  !  there  is  rest  above  I     Heaven's  light  is  pour- 
ing 
Strength  thro' 'the  frame,  and  brightness  on  the  eye, 
And  the  glad  heart,  the  enfranchised  soul,  is  soaring 
In  res:  and  rapture  only  known  on  high. 

The  rest  of  heaven  !     O  I  trembling,  fainting  spirit ! 

Chained  to  the  earth  by  weariness  and  wo  I 
Look  up !     Think  of  the  rest  thou  shalt  inherit ! 

Think  of  the  glory  thou  art  soon  to  know ! 

Look  up,  believer  I     Lo  I  a  rest  remaineth  I 

Dark  tho'  thy  way  may  be,  it  leads  thee  home  I 

There  He,  who  bore  the  cross,  in  glory  reigneth  ! 
He,  who  Hke   thee,   once   knew   earth's  grief  and 

gloom. 

Cheer  thee  I     His  love  is  o'er  thy  life  presiding, 
He  soothes  thy  spirit  when  by  care  oppressed, 

And  He  thy  wear)-  steps  is  safely  guiding 
Thro'  life,  thro'  death,  to  His  eternal  rest. 


422  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 


O   HAD  I  THE  WINGS  OF  A  DOVE. 


Henry  Francis  Lyte. 


OH,  had  I,  my  Saviour,  the  wings  of  a  dove, 
How  soon  would  I  soar  to  thy  presence  above! 
Plow  soon  would  I  flee  where  the  weary  have  rest, 
And  hide  all  my  cares  in  thy  sheltering  breast ! 

Ah  !  there  the  wild  tempest  forever  shall  cease  : 
No  billow  shall  ruffle  that  haven  of  peace. 
Temptation  and  trouble  alike  shall  depart, — 
All  tears  from  the  eye,  and  all  sin  from  the  heart. 

Soon,  soon,  may  this  Eden  of  promise  be  mine! 
Rise,  bright  Sun  of  glory,  no  more  to  decline! 
Thy  light,  yet  unrisen,  the  wilderness  cheers: 
Oh !  what  will  it  be  when  the  fulness  appears? 


THE  SABBATH  OF  THY  LOVE. 


Charles    Wesley. 


LORD,  I  believe  a  rest  remains, 
To  all  thy  people  known  ; 
A  rest  where  pure  enjoyment  reigns, 
And  Thou  art  loved  alone ; — 


THE   REST   OF   HEAVEN.  423 

A  rest  where  all  our  souls'  desire 

Is  fixed  on  things  above ; 
Where  fear  and  sin  and  grief  expire, 

Cast  out  by  perfect  love. 

Oh  that  I  now  the  rest  might  know, 

Believe  and  enter  in ! 
Now,  Saviour !  now  the  power  bestow, 

And  let  me  cease  from  sin. 

Remove  the  hardness  of  my  heart, 

The  unbelief  remove : 
To  me  the  rest  of  faith  impart — 

The  Sabbath  of  Thy  love. 


OH    COULD   OUR  THOUGHTS  AND  WISHES 

FLY. 


Annb    Steele. 


OH  !  could  our  thoughts  and  wishes  fly, 
Above  these  gloomy  shades, 
To  those  bright  worlds  beyond  the  sky, 
Which  sorrow  ne'er  invades  ! 

There  joys  unseen  by  mortal  eyes, 

Or  reason's  feeble  ray, 
In  ever-blooming  prospect  rise, 

Unconscious  of  decay. 

Lord  !  send  a  beam  of  light  divine 

To  guide  our  upward  aim ; 
With  one  reviving  touch  of  Thine 

Our  languid  hearts  inflame. 


424  HEAVEN   IN    SONG. 

Then  shall,  on  faith's  sublimest  wing, 

Our  a  dent  wishes  rise 
To  those  bright  scenes  where  pleasures  spring 

Immortal  in  the  skies. 


BUILD  THY  NEST  HIGHER. 


Gerald  Massey. 


I  BUILT  my  nest  by  a  pleasant  stream, 
That  glided  on  with  a  smile  in  its  gleam, 
Bringing  me  gold  that  was  sumless ; 
Ah  me !  but  the  floods  came  drowning  one  day, 
And  swept  my  nest  with  its  wealth  away ; 
I  in  the  world  was  homeless  ! 

I  built  my  nest  in  a  gay  green  tree, 
And  the  summer  of  life  went  merrily 

With  us!  we  were  birds  of  a  feather! 
But  the  leaves  soon  fell,  and  my  pretty  ones  flew, 
And  through  my  nest  the  bitter  winds  blew  ; 

'Twas  bare  in  the  wildest  weather. 

I  built  my  nest  under  heaven's  high  eaves ; 
No  rising  of  floods,  no  falling  of  leaves, 

Can  mock  my  heart's  endeavor  ; 
Waters  may  wash,  and  breezes  may  blow, 
In  the  bosom  of  Rest  I  shall  smile,  I  shall  know 

My  nest  is  safe  forever. 


THE    REST   OF   HEAVEN.  425 


REST  WEARY  SOUL,  THE    PENALTY   IS 
BORNE. 


Anonymous. 


REST,  weary  soul, 
The  penalty  is  borne,  the  ransom  paid, 
For  all  thy  sins  full  satisfaction  made  ; 
Strive  not  thyself  to  do  what  Christ  has  done  ; 
Take  the  free  gift,  and  make  the  joys  thine  own  ; 
No  more  by  pangs  of  guilt  and  fear  to  sin  distressed, 
Rest,  sweetly  rest. 

Rest,  weary  heart, 
From  all  thy  silent  griefs  and  secret  pain, 
Thy  profitless  regrets  and  longings  vain  ; 
Wisdom  and  love  have  ordered  all  the  past ; 
All  shall  be  light  and  blessedness  at  last  ; 
Cast  off  the  cares  that  have  so  long  oppressed, — 

Rest,  sweetly  rest. 

Rest,  weary  head  ; 
Lie  down  to  slumber  in  the  peaceful  tomb ; 
Light  from  above  has  broken  through  its  gloom ; 
Here,  in  the  place  where  once  thy  Saviour  lay, 
Where  He  shall  wake  thee  on  a  future  day, — 
Like  a  tired  child  upon  its  mother's  breast, 

Rest,  sweetly  rest. 


426  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Rest,  spirit  free, 
In  the  green  pasture  of  the  heavenly  shore, 
Where  sin  and  sorrow  can  approach  no  more  ; 
With  all  the  flock  by  the  Good  Shepherd  fed, 
Beside  the  streams  of  life  eternal  led, 
Forever  with  thy  God  and  Saviour  blest, 

Rest,  sweetly  rest. 


THE  GOLDEN  STREET. 


William  O.  Stoddard. 


THE  toil  is  very  long  and  I  am  tired  : 
Oh,  Father,  I  am  weary  of  the  way ! 
Give  me  that  rest  I  have  so  long  desired  ; 

Bring  me  that  Sabbath's  cool  refreshing  day, 
And  let  the  fever  of  my  world-worn  feet 
Press  the  cool  smoothness  of  the  golden  street. 

Tired — very  tired !     And  I  at  times  have  seen, 
When  the  far  pearly  gates  were  open  thrown 

For  those  who  walked  no  more  with  me,  the  green 
Sweet  foliage  of  the  trees  that  there  alone 

At  last  wave  over  those  whose  world-worn  feet 

Press  the  cool  smoothness  of  the  golden  street. 

When  the  gates  open  and  before  they  close — 
Sad  hours  but  holy — I  have  watched  the  tide 

Whose  living  crystal  there  forever  flows 
Before  the  throne,  and  sadly  have  I  sighed 

To  think  how  long  until  my  world-worn  feet 

Press  the  cool  smoothness  of  the  golden  street. 


THE   REST   OF   HEAVEN.  427 

They  shall  not  wander  from  that  blessed  way ; 

Nor  heat,  nor  cold,  nor  weariness,  nor  sin, 
Nor  any  clouds  in  that  eternal  day. 

Trouble  them  more  who  once  have  entered  in  ; 
But  all  is  rest  to  them  whose  world-worn  feet 
Press  the  cool  smoothness  of  the  golden  street. 

Thus  the  gates  close  and  I  behold  no  more, 
Though  as  I  walk,  they  open  oftener  now 

For  those  who  leave  me  and  go  on  before  ; 
And  I  am  lonely  also  while  I  bow 

And  think  of  those  dear  souls  whose  world-worn  feet 

Press  the  cool  smoothness  of  the  golden  street. 

Tired — very  tired  ! — but  I  will  patient  be, 

Nor  will  I  murmur  at  the  weary  way  : 
I  too  shall  walk  beside  the  crystal  sea, 

And  pluck  the  ripe  fruit  all  that  God-lit  day, 
When  Thou,  O  Lord,  shall  let  my  feet 
Press  the  cool  smoothness  of  the  golden  street. 


A  LITTLE   WHILE  THE  VIGIL  KEEPING. 


Jane  Crevvdson. 


OFOR  the  peace  which  floweth  as  a  river, 
Making  life's  desert  places  bloom  and  smile ! 
O  for  the  faith  to  grasp  heaven's  bright  "  forever  " 
Amid  the  shadows  of  earth's  "  Httle  while  !  " 

A  little  while  for  patient  vigil-keeping, 
To  face  the  stern,  to  battle  with  the  strong  ; 
A  Httle  while  to  sow  the  seed  with  weeping. 
Then  bind  the  sheaves  and  sing  the  harvest  song. 


428  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

A  little  while  to  wear  the  weeds  of  sadness, 
To  pace  with  weary  steps  through  noisy  ways ; 
Then  to  pour  forth  the  fragrant  oil  of  gladness, 
And  clasp  the  girdle  round  the  robe  of  praise. 

A  little  while  midst  shadow  and  delusion 

To  strive  by  faith  love's  mysteries  to  spell  : 

Then  read  each  dark  enigma's  bright  solution, 

Then  hail  sight's  verdict — "  He  doth  all  things  well." 

K  little  while  the  earthen  pitcher  taking, 
To  wayside  brooks  from  far  off  fountains  fed  ; 
Then  the  cool  lip  its  thirst  forever  slaking 
Beside  the  fulness  of  the  fountain-head. 

A  little  while  to  keep  the  oil  from  failing, 

A  little  while  faith's  flickering  lamp  to  trim  ; 

And  then,  the  Bridegroom's  coming  footsteps  hailing, 

To  haste  to  meet  him.  with  the  bridal-hymn. 

And  he  who  is  himself  the  Gift  and  Giver — 
The  future  glory  and  the  present  smile. 
With  the  bright  promise  of  the  glad  forever 
Will  light  the  shadows  of  the  ''  little  while." 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR   HEAVEN. 


They  desire  a  better  country,  that  is  a  heavenly. — Heb.  ii  :  i6. 

We  rejoice  in  hope  of  the  glory  of  God. — Rom.  5  :  2. 

Nevertheless  we,  according  to  his  promise,  look  for  new  heavens  and  a  new 
earth,  wherein  dwelleth  righteousness.— 3  Peter  3  :  13. 


Oh  that 
Psa.  55  ;  6. 


had  wings  like  a  dove  !  for  then  would  I  fly  away  and  be  at  rest.— 


ASPIRATIONS    FOR   HEAVEN, 


O,  TO  BE  THERE ! 


From  the  Dutch. 


OTO  be  there, 
Where  never  tears  of  sorrow 
Shall  dim  the  eye,  nor  aching  pain  nor  care 
Shall  overcloud  our  morrow  ! 
O,  to  be  there  ! 

O,  lovely  home . 
Thy  fragrant,  thornless  flowers 
Droop  not  nor  die,  but  everlasting  bloom 
Crowns  all  thy  golden  hours  : 

O,  lovely  home  ! 

O,  let  me  go  ! 
Death  shall  not  there  dissever 
Our  loving  hearts.     Rivers  of  pleasure  flow 
At  God's  right  hand  forever : 

O,  let  me  go ! 

For  Thou  art  there, 
Who  unto  me  hast  given 
Eternal  life,  making  me  pure  and  fair  ; 
And  this  to  me  is  heaven, 

For  Thou  art  there. 


432  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


CLEAR    FOUNT    OF    LIGHT,    MY    NATIVE 
LAND. 


From  the  Spanish  of  Francesco  de  Aluana.    Translated  by  Longfellow. 


CLEAR  fount  of  light !  my  native  land  on  high, 
Bright  with  a  glory  that  shall  never  fade  ! 
Mansion  of  truth!  without  a  veil  or  shade, 
Thy  holy  quiet  meets  the  spirit's  eye. 
There  dwells  the  soul  in  its  ethereal  essence, 
Gasping  no  longer  for  life's  feeble  breath  ; 
But,  sentinelled  in  heaven,  its  glorious  presence 
With  pitying  eye  beholds,  yet  fears  not,  death. 
Beloved  Country!  banished  from  thy  shore, 
A  stranger  in  this  prison  house  of  clay, 
The  exiled  spirit  weeps  and  sighs  for  thee  ! 
Heavenward  the  bright  perfections  I  adore 
Direct,  and  the  sure  promise  cheers  the  way, 
That,  whither  love  aspires,  there  shall  my  dwelling  be. 


OH  HAD  1  WINGS  LIKE  YONDER  BIRD! 


Weir. 


OH  had  I  wings  like  yonder  bird 
That  soars  above  its  downy  nest, 
I'd  fly  away  unseen,  unheard, 

Where  I  might  be  for  aye  at  rest. 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR   HEAVEN.  433 

Oh,  I  would  fly  and  be  at  rest ! 

Far,  far  beyond  each  glittering  sphere 
That  hangs  upon  the  azure  breast 

Of  all  we  know  of  Heaven  here. 

And  there  Pd  rest,  amidst  the  joys 

Angelic  lips  alone  can  tell ; 
Where  bloom  the  bowers  of  Paradise, 

Where  songs  in  sweetest  transports  swell. 


DEAR   SAVIOUR,   OUR    HEARTS   BURN 
WITHIN. 


[This  is  a  popular  hymn,  sung  often  in  Germany  by  the  whole  congregation,  as 
they  leave  the  church  at  the  close  of  Divine  service.  The  melody  is  our  own 
"  Home,  Sweet  Home,"  with  some  modifications.] 


O  WHERE  shall  the  soul  find   her  rest  and  her 
home? 
Whose  wings  will  protect  her?     How  long  must  she 

roam? 
Does  not  the  world  offer  one  city  of  peace, 
One  spot  free  from  sin,  where  our  labors  may  cease  ? 
No,  No,  No,  No  !     Far  out  of  sight. 
Beyond  is  our  home,  in  the  kingdom  of  light. 

We'll  leave,  then,  the  world  in  its  darkness  behind, 
And  walk  in  the  light,  if  our  home  we  may  find  ; 
The  great  New  Jerusalem,  God  has  prepared, 
His  Word  has  been  given — His  counsel  declared. 
Yes,  Yes,  Yes,  Yes !     Yonder  must  be 
Those  mansions  made  ready  for  you  and  for  me. 
28 


434  HEAVExN   IN   SONG. 

Dear  Saviour,  our  hearts  burn  within,  and  we  long 
To  join  the  angels'  victorious  song. 
Hallelujah  to  Him  who  hath  bought  us  !  they  cry — 
The  Lamb  who  hath  loved  us,  who  reigneth  on  high ! 
Wait,  Wait,  Wait,  Wait !     Soon  shall  we  hear 
The  voice  of  the  Master  who  bids  us  appear. 

Then  courage,  our  souls !  for  the  warfare  is  short, 

Our  armor  is  strong,  and  secure  is  our  Fort ; 

And  when  we  have  triumphed,  and  each  has  his  crown, 

At  the  feet  of  the  Lord  we  will  cast  them  all  down. 

Joy,  Joy,  Joy,  Joy!     Safe  home  at  last — 

The  battle  is  over — the  peril  is  past. 


GIVE  ME  NOW  MY  LYRE. 


Composed  upon  Milton  in  his  old  age,  by  Elizabeth  Lloyd. 


O  MERCIFUL  One, 
When    men   are   farthest,   then   Thou   art   most 
near  ; 
When  friends  pass  by,  my  weakness  to  shun. 
Thy  chariot  I  hear. 

Thy  glorious  face 
Is  leaning  toward  me — and  its  holy  light 
Shines  in  upon  my  lonely  dwelling-place, 

And  there  is  no  more  night. 

O !  I  seem  to  stand 
Trembling  where  foot  of  mortal  ne'er  hath  been. 
Wrapped  in  the  radiance  of  Thy  sinless  land. 

Which  eye  hath  never  seen. 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR   HEAVEN.  433 

Visions  come  and  go — 
Shapes  of  resplendent  beauty  round  me  throng — 
From  angel  lips  I  seem  to  hear  the  flow 

Of  soft  and  holy  song. 

It  is  nothing  now, 
When  heaven  is  ripening  on  my  sightless  eye, 
When  airs  from  Paradise  refresh  my  brow, 

That  earth  in  darkness  lies. 

In  a  purer  clime 
My  being  fills  with  rapture — waves  of  thought 
Roll  in  upon  my  spirit — strains  sublime 

Break  over  me  unsought. 

Give  me  now  my  lyre  ; 
I  feel  the  stirrings  of  a  gift  divine  ; 
Within  my  bosom  glows  unearthly  fire, 

Lit  by  no  skill  of  mine. 


CHRIST,  LET  ME  COME  TO  THEE. 


Mary  M.  Graves. 


CHRIST,  let  me  come  to  Thee ! 
Behind  me  roars  the  angry  ocean  tide  ; 
Each  crested  wave  comes  nearer,  nearer  still ; 
The  muttered  thunders  in  the  billows  hide, 
I  shudder  at  their  hoarse,  loud  voice,  so  chill, 


436  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

I  cannot  meet  the  fierce,  wild  storm  of  Life ! 

I  have  no  strength  to  battle  with  it  more ! 
Too  long  I've  wrestled  in  the  painful  strife, 

I  must  lay  down  the  burden  that  I  bore. 
Sweet  Christ,  O  may  I  come  ? 

Christ,  let  me  come  to  Thee  ! 
In  dreams  I  hear  Thy  white-robed  angels  sing 

The  golden  glories  of  their  beauteous  land  ; 
I  hear  the  rustle  of  each  snowy  wing, 

And  feel  their  touch  upon  my  fevered  hand. 
Colder  than  ever  seems  the  earth  to  me, 

When  I  awake  and  see  them  flit  away ; 
I  strain  my  eyes,  the  last  bright  glimpse  to  see. 

And  watch  them  vanish  through  the  gates  of  day. 
Sweet  Christ,  O  may  I  come  ? 

Christ,  let  me  come  to  Thee  ! 
I  watch  my  toiling  breath  grow  faint  and  slow  ; 

I  note  the  hectic  deepening,  day  by  day. 
And  feel  my  life  is  like  a  wreath  of  snow. 

Which  one  kind  breath  of  heaven  would  melt  away! 
A  little  longer  in  this  world  of  vice — 

The  wished-for  boundary  is  almost  passed — 
I  see  the  shining  shore  of  Paradise, 

I  know  my  pain  is  almost  o'er  at  last. 
Sweet  Chirst,  O  let  me  come  ! 

Christ,  let  me  come  to  Thee  ! 
I've  seen  the  gates  that  guard  Thy  holy  clime  ! 

And  often  caught  a  gleam  of  Thee  within  ; 
I  know  they'll  open  in  Thine  own  good  time, 

And  let  Thy  weary,  wandering  child  come  in. 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR   HEAVEN.  43/ 

I've  had  through  all  this  weary  care  and  pain 

One  blessed  hope  that  ne'er  has  known  despair — 

It  cheers  me  like  the  sunshine  after  rain  ! 

I  know  Thou'lt  hear  my  deep  and  heartfelt  prayer, 
And  let  me  come  to  Thee ! 


COME,  LORD,  MY  HEART  IS  SICK. 


George  Herbert. 


COME,  Lord,  my  head  doth  bum,  my  heart  is  sick 
While  Thou  dost  ever,  ever  stay: 
Thy  long  deferrings  wound  me  to  the  quick, 
My  spirit  gaspeth  night  and  day. 

O  show  Thyself  to  me, 
Or  take  me  up  to  Thee  ! 

How  canst  Thou  stay,  considering  the  pace 

The  blood  did  make,  which  Thou  didst  waste  ? 
When  I  beheld  it  trickling  down  Thy  face, 
I  never  saw  thing  make  such  haste. 
O  show  Thyself  to  me, 
Or  take  me  up  to  Thee* 

Yet  if  Thou  stayest  still,  why  must  I  stay? 

My  God,  what  is  this  world  to  me? 
This  world  of  woe?  hence,  all  ye  clouds  away. 
Away ;  I  must  get  up  and  see. 

O  show  Thyself  to  me, 
Or  take  me  up  to  Thee  ! 


438  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Oh,  loose  this  frame,  this  knot  of  man  untie  ! 

That  my  free  soul  may  use  her  wing 
Which  now  is  pinioned  with  mortalitie, 
As  an  entangled,  hampered  thing. 

O  show  Thyself  to  me, 
Or  take  me  up  to  Thee  ! 

What  have  I  left  that  I  should  stay  and  grone? 

The  most  of  me  to  heaven  is  fled  : 
My  thoughts  and  joys  are  all  packt  up  and  gone, 
And  for  their  old  acquaintance  plead. 
O  show  Thyself  to  me, 
Or  take  me  up  to  Thee  ! 

Come,  dearest  Lord,  passe  not  this  holy  season, 

My  flesh  and  bones  and  joints  do  play  : 
And  even  my  verse,  when  by  the  rhyme  and  reason 
The  word  is  Stay,  says  ever.  Come. 
O  show  Thyself  to  me, 
Or  take  me  up  to  Thee  ! 


ME  TO  ZION  TAKE  IN  PITY. 


From  the  Latin.     By  Thomas  H.  Chivres. 


SAVE  me,  Lord!  thou  Judge  EternaL' 
From  those  dark  domains  infernal ; 
Where  is  weeping,  where  is  wailing. 
Where  all  prayers  are  unavailing  ! 
Where  each  soul  doth  self-inherit 
Proofs  of  its  own  damned  demerit  ; 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR   HEAVEN.  439 

Tortures  reaping — ever  crying, 
From  the  worm  that  is  undying; 
Where  no  hope  can  come  to  sever 
Life  from  death,  in  hell  forever ! 


Me  to  Zion  take  in  pity! 
David's  Zion — tranquil  city ! 
Built  by  God,  of  light — its  portal 
Cross  of  Christ,  the  wood  immortal ; 
Key  that  locks,  the  tongue  of  Peter, 
Turned,  the  songs  of  God's  not  sweeter; 
Walled,  heaven  high,  each  scaleless  story 
Guarded  by  the  King  of  Glory  ! 

In  this  city,  light  eternal 
Reigns  forever — peace  supernal  ; 
Odors  flow  in  such  completeness. 
Heaven  is  filled  with  songs  of  sweetness 

Here,  the  soul  knows  no  corruption, 
Frailty  none,  nor  interruption  ; 
None  too  little,  none  dilated. 
All  in  Christ  are  consummated. 

Heavenly  city!  glorious  city! 
Built  upon  the  rock  of  Pity ! 
City  in  whose  Gates  are  gathered 
All  I  long  for — all  I  fathered  ! 
Now  I  greet  thee — thee  I  sigh  for ! 
Whose  possession  I  would  die  for! 


440  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

With  what  warm  congratulations 
Meet  in  thee  the  joyful  Nations  ! 
How  delighted  stand  they  gazing 
At  the  walls  with  glory  blazing ; 
Hyacinth  with  Chalcedony — 
Heaven's  own  wealth  their  patrimony  ! 

In  this  city's  streets,  for  greeting, 
Clouds  of  blessed  souls  are  meeting  ; 
Singing  songs  such  as  the  pious 
Moses  sang  for  'rapt  Elias. 


I  WOULD  GO  HOME. 


From  the  German. 


"  Ich  xaochte  Heim ;  mich  zieht's  dem  Vaterhouse." 

I  WOULD  go  home  !     Fain  to  my  Father's  house, 
Fain  to  my  Father's  heart ! 
Far  from  the  world's  uproar,  and  hollow  vows. 

To  silent  peace,  apart. 
With  thousand  hopes  in  life's  gay  dawn  I  ranged. 
Now    homeward    wend    with    chastened    heart,    and 
changed ; 
Still  to  my  soul  one  gleam  of  hope  is  come, 
I  would  go  home  ! 

I  would  go  home,  vexed  with  thy  sharp  annoy ; 

Thou  weary  world  and  waste 
I  would  go  home,  disrelishing  thy  poor  joy  ; 

Let  those  that  love  thee,  taste  ! 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR    HEAVEN.  44I 

Since  my  God  wills  it,  I  my  cross  would  bear, 
Would  bravely  all  the  appointed  "  hardness"  share  ; 

But  still  my  bosom  sighs,  where'er  I  roam, 

For  home,  sweet  home. 

I  would  go  home !     My  happiest  dreams  have  been 

Of  that  dear  Fatherland  ! 
My  lot  may  be  there  ;  in  heaven's  all  cloudless  scene, 

Here,  flits  mirage  or  sand  ! 
Bright  summer  gone,  the  darting  swallows  spread 
Their  wings  from  all  our  vales  revisited, 

Soft  twittering,  as  the  fowler's  wiles  they  flee. 

Home,  home  for  me ! 

I  would  be  home !     They  gave  my  infancy 

Gay  pastime,  luscious  feast ; 
One  little  hour  I  shared  the  childish  glee, 

But  soon  my  mirth  had  ceased ; 
While  still  my  playmates'  eyes  with  pleasure  shone, 
And  but  more  sparkled  as  the  sport  went  on  : 

Spite  of  sweet  fruits  and  golden  honey-comb, 

I  sighed  for  home. 

I  would  be  home  !     To  shelter  steers  the  vessel ; 

The  rivulet  seeks  the  sea; 
The  nursling  in  its  mother's  arms  will  nestle ; 

Like  them  I  long  to  flee  ! 
In  joy,  in  grief,  have  I  tuned  many  a  lay  ; 
Griefs,  joys  like  harp-notes,  have  now  died  away. 

One  hope  yet  lives !     To  heaven's  paternal  dome, 

Ah  !  take  me  home  ! 


442  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


HOW  LONG,  O  LORD,  HOW  LONG? 


Helen  L.  Parmlee. 


HINDER  me  not ! — the  path  is  long  and  dreary, 
I  may  not  pause,  nor  tarry  by  the  way — 
Night  Cometh,  where  no  man  may  journey  onward, 
For  we  must  walk  as  ''children  of  the  day." 

I  know  the  city  lieth  far  behind  me, 

The  very  brightest  gem  in  all  the  plain  ; — 

But  thick  and  fast  the  lurid  clouds  are  rising, 
Which  soon  shall  scatter  into  fiery  rain. 

I  know  not  if  the  wave  shall  rage  or  slumber. 
When  I  shall  stand  upon  the  nearer  shore  ; 

But  One,  whose  form  the  Son  of  God  resembleth, 
Will  cross  with  me,  and  I  shall  ask  no  more ! 

O  weary  heads  !  rest  on  your  Saviour's  bosom, 
O  weary  feet !  press  on  the  path  He  trod, 

O  weary  souls !  your  rest  shall  be  remaining, 
When  ye  have  gained  the  City  of  your  God ! 

O  glorious  City  !  jasper-built,  and  shining 
With  God's  own  glory  in  effulgent  light, 

Wherein  no  manner  of  defilement  cometh, 
Nor  any  shadow  flung  from  passing  night. 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR    HEAVEN.  443 

There,  shall  ye  find  your  dead  in  Christ,  arisen, 
And  learn  from  them  to  sing  the  angel's  song  ; 

Well  may  ye  echo,  from  earth's  waiting  prison, 

The  martyr's  cry :  "  How  long,  O  Lord  !  how  long !  " 


NOW  LORD  LET  ME  GO! 


Domine  Nunc,  Dimitte  "  :  a  prayer  of  Jerome  on  his  death-bed.     By  T.  B. 


NOW  Lord  let  me  go  !— I 
Am  ready  to  be  offered  ;  my 
Departure  is  at  hand.     Well  sown 
Are  all  my  tears.     They  shall  come  up 
In  joy.     A  few  more  times  to  sup 
The  ashen  crust,  the  wormwood  cup 
With  Jesus  here,  and  at  His  own 
Sweet  table  in  His  Father's  House 
With  Him  I  He,  and  lean  these  brows, 
Shrunk  with  habitual  pain,  upon 
His  brother  bosom.     I  have  done 
The  work  He  gave  me. 

Life's  brief  part 
Is  acted  with  me,  but  the  scene 
That  closes  it  shall  be  serene, 
I  know,  for  that  strange  light  that  turns 
Old  men  to-  prophets  surely  burns 
This  hour  within  me :  Ay,  it  cheers 
Me  with  the  vision  of  far  years 
Full  of  reward  and  glory.     Look ! 
I  see  the  sequel  of  the  Book 


444  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

And  of  my  toils  !     The  Lion  hath  broke 
The  seven  seals,  and  lo,  its  strong, 
Diffusive,  living  words  outflow 
Like  liberated  light,  and  glow 
From  zone  to  zone  !     To  numerous  song 
The  nations  wake,  while  the  swift  hands 
Of  iron  scribes  obedient  ply 
Their  elemental  strength  to  fly 
Christ's  message  and  replenish  the  land 
With  truth— till  "  Holiness  to  God  " 
Upon  all  popular  wealth  writ  broad 
And  bold  in  Roman  lines,  repeats 
Assurance  of  millennium. 

''Come!" 
I  hear  my  Father  say  !     From  home 
The  sight  and  savor  of  His  meats 
Reaches  me  here.     I  soon  shall  test 
The  pleasures  of  domestic  rest. 


So  I  my  sunset  hour  devote 

To  praise  and  heavenly  peace.     No  note 

Of  restless  contradiction  more 

Shall  beat  my  calm  thought  from  the  shore 

Of  that  good  land  where  Jesus  dwells, 

And  water  from  Salvation's  wells 

Runs  gladness. 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR   HEAVEN.  445 


O  TAKE  ME  TO  HIS  FEET! 


From  the  Presbyterian. 


"Where  Christ  is,  there  is  heaven." — Chrysostom. 

WHEN  shall  my  soul  repose, 
All  pure  and  glorious,  on  my  Saviour's  breast, 
As  'neath  morn's  opening  eye,  the  full-blown  rose 
Gives  the  lone  dew-drop  rest  ? 

Ne'er  can  I  rest,  nor  feel 
My  soul  at  home,  till  Him  in  heaven  I  find, 
And  heavenly  glory  in  my  heart  anneal 

The  graces  there  enshrined. 

Sick  with  this  fervent  love, 
How  turns  the  spirit  from  all  earthly  things, 
And  longs  to  sink  away  a  pearl  above 

In  heaven's  pellucid  springs  ; 

Lost  as  a  radiant  gem 
In  Jesus'  heart,  the  depths  of  love  divine  ; 
My  soul  impearled  in  bliss.  His  diadem 

Its  sainted,  glorious  shrine. 

O  take  me  to  His  feet — 
There  let  me  bathe  with  tears  and  kiss  the  wound 
Borne  on  the  cross,  and  glad  my  love  repeat 

To  angels  listening  round. 


446  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

How  can  the  richest  tone, 
That  e'er  from  angel  lips  or  harp  distilled, 
Entrance  the  heart  that  Jesus'  love  has  known, 

And  with  His  voice  been  thrilled? 

No,  not  the  streets  of  gold, 
Nor  gates  of  pearl,  nor  Salem's  silvery  dome, 
Nor  scenes  on  Zion's  heavenly  fields  unrolled — 

These,  these  are  not  my  home. 

My  disembodied  soul. 
Ye  kindred  angels,  take  to  Jesus'  breast; 
There,  dove-like,  seeks  my  heart  its  final  goal, 

There  only  longs  to  rest. 


TEACH  ME  THAT  NEW  SONG. 


Anonymous. 


ARISE,  my  soul,  arise. 
Unfold  thy  heaven-born  wings ; 
Thy  home  is  in  the  skies, 
Where  lofty  Gabriel  sings  ; 
And  loud,  through  all  the  spacious  plain. 
Is  heard — "  The  Lamb,  the  Lamb  was  slain  !  " 

Oh,  may  my  bosom  glow 
With  melody  like  this  ! 
Oh,  may  my  spirit  bow, 

When  musing  on  their  bliss  ! 
Ah!  didst  Thou  die,  dear  Lamb,  for  me? 
He  bled — He  grroan'd — He  died  for  thee. 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR   HEAVEN.  447 

Oh,  teach  me  that  new  song 

Which  occupies  their  time  ; 
And  say,  will  it  be  long 

Ere  I  shall  reach  that  clime  ? 
I'll  wait  till  Thou  shalt  call  me  home  ; 
Yet  come,  Lord  Jesus,  quickly  come. 


"I  RISE  TO  SEEK  THE  LIGHT." 

IS  AW  a  little  blade  of  grass, 
Just  peeping  from  the  sod. 
And  asked  it  why  it  sought  to  pass 

Beyond  its  parent  clod? 
It  seemed  to  raise  its  timid  head, 
All  sparkling,  fresh,  and  bright, 
And  wondering  at  the  question,  said, 
"  I  rise  to  seek  the  light." 

I  asked  the  eagle  why  his  wing 

To  ceaseless  flight  was  given. 
As  if  he  spurned  each  earthly  thing, 

And  knew  no  home  but  heaven  ? 
He  answered,  as  he  fixed  his  gaze, 

Undazzled  at  the  sight, 
Upon  the  sun's  meridian  blaze, 

"  I  rise  to  seek  the  light." 

I  asked  my  soul.  What  means  this  thirst 
For  something  yet  beyond — 

What  means  this  eagerness  to  burst 
From  every  earthly  bond  ? 


448  HEAVEN    IN    SONG. 

It  answers,  and  I  feel  it  glow 

With  fires  more  warm,  more  bright, 

"  All  is  too  dull,  too  dark  below, 
/  rise  to  seek  the  Lights 


WHY  TARRIEST  THOU,  EXPECTED  DAY? 


From  a  Latin  hymn  of  Coffin. 


OGOD,  who  far  from  mortal  sight 
Dwellest  in  unapproached  light ; 
Before  whom  saints  with  trembling,  bow. 
And  angels  stand  with  veiled  brow, 

Behold  us  now — we  sink  in  gloom, 
And  darkness  as  a  shadowy  tomb 
Surrounds  us — may  the  eternal  day 
Arising,  chase  these  clouds  away  ! 

The  eternal  day !     Thou  dost  design 
For  us  such  day  of  light  divine. 
Such  glory,  as  our  burning  sun 
Would  shrink  and  pale  to  look  upon. 

Why  tarriest  thou,  expected  day  ? 
Our  fainting  spirits  mourn  thy  stay : 
We  fain  would  leave  this  heavy  load 
Of  clay,  and  upward  spring  to  God. 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR    HEAVEN.  449 

O  bliss !  to  burst  from  every  thrall, 
And  soar  to  Thee,  our  God,  our  all ; 
To  see  Thy  glory,  face  to  face. 
Unceasingly  to  love  and  praise ! 

Thou  grace-imparting  Trinity, 
Fit  us  for  such  bright  destiny ; 
And  grant  that  life's  receding  ray 
May  usher  in  eternal  day ! 


MORARIS  HEU!    NIMIS  DIU. 


[It  may  interest  classical  readers  to  see  the  beautiful  original  of  the  above  hymn, 
which  is  also  given.] 


OLUCE,  qui  mortalibus 
Lates  inaccessa,  Deus  ; 
Praesente  quo  sancti  tremunt 
Nubuntque  vultus  Angeli : 

Hie,  ceu  profunda  conditi 
Demergimur  caligine, 
^ternus  at  noctem  suo 
Fulgore  depellet  dies. 

Hunc  nempe  nobis  praeparas, 
Nobis  reservas  hunc  diem, 
Quem  vix  adumbrat  splendida 
Flammantis  astri  claritas. 

Moraris  heu  !  nimis  diu, 
Moraris,  optatus  dies : 
Ut  te  fruamur  noxii 
Linquenda  moles  corporis. 


450  HEAVEN    IN    SONG. 

His  cum  soluta  vinculis 
Mens  evolarit,  O  Deus ; 
Videre  te,  laudare  te, 
Amare  te  non  desinet. 

Ad  omne  nos  apta  bonum, 
Foecunda  donis  Trinitas ; 
Fac  lucis  usurae  brevi 
Sterna  succedat  dies. 


I'M  WEARY,  WEARY,  LET  ME  GO. 


Rav  Palmer. 


'•  I'm  weary — I'm  weary — let  me  go  home."    [The  dying  words  of  the  great 
.     Neander.] 


I'M  weary — weary — let  me  go  ! 
For  now  the  pulse  of  life  declineth,  # 

My  spirit  chides  its  lingering  flow, 
For  her  immortal  life  she  pineth. 

I  feel  the  chill  night-shadows  fall  ;^- 

The  sleep  steals  on,  that  knows  no  waking  ; 

Yet  well  I  hear  blest  voices  call, 

And  bright  above  the  day  is  breaking  ! 

Not  now  the  purple  and  the  gold 
Of  traihng  clouds  at  sunset  glowing, 

These  dim  and  fading  eyes  behold  ; 

But  splendors  from  the  Godhead  flowing! 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR   HEAVEN.  45 1 

'Tis  not  the  crimson  orient  beam. 


O'er  mountain-tops,  in  beauty  glancing; 
Light  from  the  Throne  !  a  flooding  stream  ! 
'Tis  the  eternal  Sun  advancing. 

As  oft,  when  waked  the  summer  morn, 

Sweet  breath  of  flowers  the  breezes  bore  me, 

In  this  serener,  fairer  dawn, 

Perfumes  from  Paradise  float  o'er  me. 

As  when,  by  sultry  heats  oppressed, 

Pve  sought  still  shades,  cool  waters  keeping, 

So  long  I  for  that  holier  rest. 

Where  Heaven's  own  living  streams  are  sweeping. 

The  joy  of  life  hath  been  to  stand 

With  spirits  noble,  true,  confiding. 
Oh,  joy  unthought,  to  reach  the  band 

Of  spotless  souls,  with  God  abiding  ! 

Ye  loved  of  earth  !  this  fond  farewell 

That  now  divides  us,  cannot  sever  ; 
Swift-flying  years  their  round  shall  tell, 

And  our  glad  souls  be  one  forever  ! 

On  the  far-off  celestial  hills 

I  see  the  tranquil  sunshine  lying  — 
And  God  Himself  my  spirit  fills  • 

With  perfect  peace — and  this  is  dying  ! 

Methinks  I  hear  the  rustling  wings 

Of  unseen  messengers  descending  ; 
And  notes,  from  softly  trembling  strings, 

With  myriad  voices  softly  blending. 


452  HEAVEN   IN    SONG. 

O  Thou,  my  Lord  adored!  this  soul 

Oft,  oft  its  warm  desires  hath  told  Thee  ! 

Now,  wearily  the  moments  roll, 

Until  these  longing  eyes  behold  Thee  ! 

Ah,  stay  my  spirit  here  no  more, 

That  for  her  home  so  fondly  yearneth  ; — 

There,  joy's  bright  cup  is  running  o'er — 
There,  love's  pure  flame  forever  burneth ! 


THE  BEAUTY  OF  MY  NATIVE  LAND. 


From  the  Latin  of  Casimer,  by  Isaac  Watts. 


THE  beauty  of  my  native  land 
Immortal  love  inspires  ; 

I  burn,  I  burn  with  strong  desires, 
And  sigh,  and  wait  the  high  command. 
There  glides  the  moon  her  shining  way. 
And  soothes  my  heart  with  silvery  ray  ; 

Upward,  that  heart  aspires. 
A  thousand  lamps  of  golden  light, 
Hung  high  in  vaulted  azure,  charm  my  sight. 
And  wink  and  beckon  with  their  loving  fires. 
O  ye  fair  glories  of  my  heavenly  home. 
Bright  sentinels,  who  guard  my  Father's  court, 

Where  all  the  happy  minds  resort. 
When  will  my  Father's  chariot  come  ? 
Must  ye  forever  walk  the  ethereal  round, 

Forever  see  the  mourner  lie 

An  exile  from  the  sky, 

A  prisoner  of  the  ground  ? 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR  HEAVEN.  453 

Descend,  some  shining  servants  from  on  high, 

Build  me  a  hasty  tomb  ; — 
A  grassy  turf  will  raise  my  head, 
The  neighboring  lilies  dress  my  bed, 

And  shed  a  cheap  perfume. 
Here  I  put  off  the  chains  of  death 

My  soul  too  long  has  worn  ; 
Friends,  I  forbid  one  groaning  breath 

Or  tear  to  wet  my  urn  ; 
Angels,  behold  me  all  undressed ; 
Here  gently  lay  this  flesh  to  rest  ; 
Then  mount,  and  lead  the  path  unknown, 
Swift  I  pursue  ye,  flaming  guides. 

On  pinions  of  my  own  ! 


FADE,  FADE,  EACH  EARTHLY  JOY. 


Mrs.  Horatio  Bonar. 


FADE,  fade,  each  earthly  joy, 
Jesus  is  mine  I 
Break,  every  tender  tie, 

Jesus  is  mine  I 
Dark  is  the  wilderness  ; 
Earth  has  no  resting-place  ; 
Jesus  alone  can  bless  ; 
Jesus  is  mine  ! 


4S4  HEAVEN   IN    SONG. 

Tempt  not  my  soul  away, 

Jesus  is  mine  ! 
Here  would  I  ever  stay, 

Jesus  is  mine  ! 
Perishing  things  of  clay. 
Born  but  for  one  brief  day, 
Pass  from  my  heart  away  ; 

Jesus  is  mine  ! 

Farewell,  ye  dreams  of  night, 

Jesus  is  mine  ! 
Lost  in  this  dawning  bright, 

Jesus  is  mine  ! 
All  that  my  soul  has  tried. 
Left  but  a  dismal  void : 
Jesus  has  satisfied  ; 

Jesus  is  mine  ! 

Farewell,  mortality, 

Jesus  is  mine ! 
Welcome,  eternity, 

Jesus  is  mine  ! 
Welcome,  O  loved  and  blest ! 
Welcome,  sweet  scenes  of  rest  ; 
Welcome,  my  Saviour's  breast  : 

Jesus  is  mine  ! 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR   HEAVEN.  455 


FROM  EARTH  TO  HEAVEN. 


Written  by  Nicoll  on  his  death-bed. 


^r^HE  dew  is  on  the  summer's  greenest  grass, 
i-      Through  which  the  modest  daisy  blushing  peeps 

The  gentle  wind  that  like  a  ghost  doth  pass, 
A  waving  shadow  on  the  corn-field  keeps  ; 

But  I  who  love  them  all  shall  never  be 

Again  among  the  woods,  or  on  the  woodland  lea ! 

The  sun  shines  sweetly — sweeter  may  it  shine  ! — 
Blessed  is  the  brightness  of  a  summer  day  ! 

It  cheers  lone  hearts  ;  and  why  should  I  repine. 
Although  among  green  fields  I  cannot  stray? 

Woods !     I  have  grown,  since  last  I  heard  you  wave, 

Familiar  with  death,  and  neighbor  of  the  grave. 

These  words  have  shaken  mighty  human  souls — 
Like  a  sepulcher's  echo  drear  they  sound — 

E'en  as  the  owl's  wild  whoop  at  midnight  rolls 
The  ivied  remnants  of  old  ruins  round. 

Yet  wherefore  tremble  ?     Can  the  soul  decay  ? 

Or  that  which  thinks  and  feels  in  aught  e'er  fade  away  ? 

Are  there  not  aspirations  in  each  heart 
After  a  better,  brighter  world  than  this  ? 

Longings  for  beings  nobler  in  each  part — 

Things  more  exalted — steeped  in  deeper  bliss? 

Who  gave  us  these  ?     What  are  they?     Soul,  in  thee 

The  bud  is  budding  now  for  immortality. 


45^  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Death  comes  to  bear  me  where  I  long  to  be ; 

One  pang,  and  bright  blooms  the  immortal  flower ; 
Death  comes  to  lead  me  from  mortality, ' 

To  lands  which  know  not  one  unhappy  hour ; 
I  have  a  hope,  a  faith — from  sorrow  here 
I'm  led  by  death  away — why  should  I  start  and  fear? 

If  I  have  loved  the  forest  and  the  field, 
Can  I  not  love  them  deeper,  better  there  ? 

If  all  that  Power  hath  made  to  me  doth  yield 

Something  of  good  and  beauty — something  fair — 

Freed  from  the  grossness  of  mortality. 

May  I  not  love  them  all,  and  better  all  enjoy? 

A  change  from  woe  to  joy — from  earth  to  heaven, 
Death  gives  me  this — it  leads  me  calmly  where 

The  souls  that  long  ago  from  mine  were  riven 

May  meet  again !     Death  answers  many  a  prayer. 

Bright  day,  shine  on  !  be  glad  :  days  brighter  far 

Are  stretched  before  mine  eyes  than  those  of  mortals 
are  ! 


PERMIT  MINE  EYES  TO  SEE. 


Robert  Herrick. 


PERMIT  mine  eyes  to  see 
Part  or  the  whole  of  thee 
O  happy  place  ! 
Where  all  have  grace 
And  garlands  shar'd 
P'or  their  reward  ; 


ASPIRATIONS    FOR   HEAVEN.  457 

Where  each  chaste  soul 
In  long  white  stole 
And  palms  in  hand 
Do  ravisht  stand  ; 
So  in  a  ring 
The  praises  sing 
Of  Three  in  One 
That  fills  the  throne : 
While  harps  and  viols  then 
To  voices  say.  Amen. 


O  HEAVEN,  SWEET  HEAVEN  ! 


Edwin  H.  Nevin. 


O  HEAVEN!    Sweet    Heaven!    the  home  of  the 
blest, 
Where  hearts  once  in  trouble  are  ever  at  rest ; 
Where  eyes  that  could  see  not  rejoice  in  the  light, 
And  beggars  made  princes  are  walking  in  white. 

O  Heaven  !  Sweet  Heaven  !  the  mansion  of  love. 
Where  Christ  in  His  beauty  shines  forth  from  above. 
The  Lamb  with  His  sceptre,  to  charm  and  control. 
And  love  is  the  sea  that  encircles  the  whole. 

O  Heaven  !  Sweet  Heaven  !  where  purity  reigns. 
Nor  error  disturbs,  nor  sin  ever  stains  ; 
Where  holiness  robes  in  its  garments  so  fair 
The  great  multitude  that  is  worshipping  there. 


45 S  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

O  Heaven  !  Sweet  Heaven  !  where  music  ne'er  dies, 
But  rich  pealing  anthems  of  glory  arise  ; 
Where  saints  with  one  feehng  of  rapture  are  stirred, 
And  loud  hallelujahs  forever  are  heard. 

O  Heaven  !  Sweet  Heaven  !  where  friends  never  part, 
But  cords  of  true  friendship  bind  firmly  the  heart  ; 
Where  farewell  shall  nevermore  fall  on  the  ear, 
Nor  eyes  that  have  sorrowed  be  dimmed  with  a  tear.* 


O  WERE  I  THERE! 


Mr.    Frelinghausen. — (1704.) 


AH,  never  then 
Her  light  again 
Jerusalem  shall  miss  ; 
For  the  Lamb  shall  be  her  light, 
Filling  her  with  bliss. 

Oh  were  I  there  ! 

Where  all  the  air 

With  lovely  sounds  are  ringing  ; 

Where  the  saints,  Thee,  Holy  Lord, 

Evermore  are  singing. 

Lord  Jesus,  Thou 

My  rest  art  now. 

O  help  me  that  I  come 

Radiant  with  Thy  light  to  shine 

In  Thy  glorious  home. 


ASPIRATIONS  FOR   HEAVEN.  459 


DEATH  AN  ENTRANCE  TO  HEAVEN, 


Ascribed  to  Francis  Taylor. 


OLONG  to  be  installed  in  the  throne 
Of  endless  glory;  let  thy  spirit  groan 
After  a  full  and  plenary  possession 
Of  blessedness  transcending  all  expression. 
Be  like  the  bird  of  Paradise,  which  (they  say) 
Being  entangled  in  the  snare,  straightway 
Begins  to  strive,  and  never  giveth  o'er 
Till  she  enjoy  her  freedom  as  before. 
Sing  Simeon's  swan-like  song  at  his  decease — 
"  Lord,  let  Thy  servant  now  depart  in  peace." 
Welcome  the  messenger  of  death,  which  brings 
Most  joyful  tidings  from  the  King  of  kings  ; 
Which  tells  the  saints  of  an  approaching  crown 
Of  matchless  glory,  honor,  and  renown. 
Death  is  the  chariot,  which  without  delay, 
Saints  to  their  Father's  house  bears  swift  away. 
Death  is,  to  humble  penitents,  no  less 
Than  a  short  entrance  into  happiness. 
Death  is  the  saints'  ascension,  day^  of  bliss, 
Their  marriage-day  with  Jesus  Christ  it  is. 
Death  is  the  charter  of  their  liberty, 
The  period  of  their  pain  and  misery  : 
Death  gives  them  an  immunity  from  sin, 
And  frees  them  from  the  fears  they  once  were  in. 


460  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Death  is  the  bane  of  woe,  the  grave  of  vice, 

The  portal  opening  into  Paradise  ; 

Where  grace,  that  in  the  bud  was  here  below, 

Into  the  flower  of  glory  straight  shall  blow : 

Where  saints'  immortal  souls,  made  more  divine, 

Shall  with  the  diamonds  of  perfection  shine  ; 

Where  they,  to  their  unspeakable  delight, 

Of  God  Himself  shall  have  a  perfect  sight ; 

Where,  in  their  wills,  there  shall  a  likeness  be 

To  God,  in  holiness  and  purity ; 

Where,  having  shot  the  gulf  of  death,  they  shall 

Wear  on  their  heads  a  crown  imperial ; 

Where  the  rich  caskets  of  their  souls  shall  be 

O'erlaid  with  glory's  best  embroidery  ; 

Where  no  contaminating  tincture  e'er 

Shall  their  unspotted  purity  besmear  ; 

Where  God  Himself  unto  the  saints  shall  be 

A  spring  of  life  to  perpetuity  ; 

Where  they  shall  in  the  fragrant  bosom  lie 

Of  their  Beloved  to  eternity  ; 

Where  the  enamel  of  their  glory  shall 

Never  wear  off,  nor  soiled  be  at  all ; 

Where  they  a  glorious  kingdom  shall  receive, 

Of  which  no  power  on  earth  can  them  bereave  ; 

Where  they  their  safety  shall  behold  from  all 

Insulting  foes,  and  their  eternal  thrall  ; 

Where  they  shall  be  partakers  of  that  joy 

Which  will  them  satisfy,  but  never  cloy ; 

Where  Baca  unto  Beracha  shall  be 

Converted,  mourning  into  melody — 

Where  brinish  tears  shall  never  dim  their  eyes. 

Nor  shall  their  ears  be  frighted  more  with  cries  ; 


ASPIRATIONS    FOR    HEAVEN.  46 1 

Where  sorrows  ne'er  shall  damp  their  hearts  again, 
Nor  shall  their  senses  be  disturb'd  with  pain  ; 
Where  length  of  years,  without  the  least  decay 
Of  strength,  they  shall  enjoy ;  yea,  where  for  aye 
They  shall  be  blessed  with  the  love  of  many, 
And  need  not  fear  the  jealousy  of  any  ; 
Where  for  their  labor  a  "  quietus  est" 
Each  saint  shall  have,  and  ever  be  at  rest  ; 
Where  life  and  immortality  they  shall 
Have,  for  their  death  in  Christ,  and  Christ  for  all. 


MY  SPIRIT  LONGS  FOR  HEAVEN. 


Mrs.  Emily  C.  Judson. 


YES,  let  me  die  !  am  I  of  spirit-birth. 
And  shall  I  linger  here  where  spirits  fell, 
Loving  the  stain  they  cast  on  all  the  earth ! 

O,  make  me  pure,  with  pure  ones  e'er  to  dwell ! 

'Tis  sweet  to  die  !  the  flowers  of  earthly  love, 

(Frail,  frail  spring  blossoms,)  early  droop  and  die ; 

But  all  their  fragrance  is  exhaled  above, 
Upon  our  spirits  evermore  to  lie. 

Life  is  a  dream,  a  bright,  but  fleeting  dream, 
I  can  but  love  ;  but  then  my  soul  awakes, 

And  from  the  mist  of  earthliness  a  gleam 
Of  heavenly  light,  of  truth  immortal,  breaks. 


462  HEAA^EN   IN   SONG. 

I  shrink  not  from  the  shadows  sorrow  flings 
Across  my  pathway ;  nor  from  cares  that  rise 

In  every  footprint  ;  for  each  shadow  brings 
Sunshine  and  rainbow  as  it  glooms  and  flies. 

But  heaven  is  dearer.     There  I  have  my  treasure ; 

There  angels  fold  in  love  their  snowy  wings  ; 
There  sainted  lips  chant  in  celestial  measure, 

And  spirit-fingers  stray  o'er  heaven-wrought  strings. 

There  loving  eyes  are  on  the  portals  straying ; 

There  arms  extend  a  wanderer  to  fold  ; 
There  waits  a  dearer,  holier  One,  arraying 

His  own  in  spotless  robes  and  crowns  of  gold. 

Then  let  me  die.     My  spirit  longs  for  heaven, 

In  that  pure  bosom  evermore  to  rest  ; 
But,  if  to  labor  longer  here  be  given, 

**  Father,  thy  will  be  done !  "  and  I  am  blest. 


WHO  DOTH  NOT  CRAVE  THY  REST? 


Frederick  William  Faber. 


•'  Having  a  desire  to  depart,  and  to  be  with  Christ,  which  is  far  better.' 

O  PARADISE,  O  Paradise, 
Who  doth  not  crave  thy  rest  ? 
Who  would  not  seek  the  happy  land 
Where  thcv  that  loved  are  blest  ? 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR    HEAVEN.  463 

Where  loyal  hearts  and  true 
Stand  ever  in  the  light, 
All  rapture  through  and  through, 
In  God's  most  holy  sight. 

O  Paradise,  O  Paradise, 

The  world  is  growing  old  ; 
Who  would  not  be  at  rest  and  free 

Where  love  is  never  cold  ? 
Where  loyal  hearts  and  true,  etc. 

0  Paradise,  O  Paradise, 
'Tis  weary  waiting  here; 

1  long  to  be  where  Jesus  is, 
To  feel,  to  see  Him  near ; 

Where  loyal  hearts  and  true,  etc. 

0  Paradise,  O  Paradise, 
I  want  to  sin  no  more, 

1  want  to  be  as  pure  on  earth 
As  on  thy  spotless  shore  ; 

Where  loyal  hearts  and  true,  etc. 

O  Paradise,  O  Paradise, 

I  greatly  long  to  see 
The  special  place  my  dearest  Lord 

In  love  prepares  for  me  ; 

Where  loyal  hearts  and  true,  etc. 

Lord  Jesu,  King  of  Paradise, 

O  keep  me  in  Thy  love. 
And  guide  me  to  that  happy  land 

Of  perfect  rest  above  ; 


464  HEAVEN    IN    SONG. 

Where  loyal  hearts  and  true 
Stand  ever  in  the  light, 
All  rapture  through  and  through, 
In  God's  most  holy  sight.     Amen, 


MY  SOUL,  DON'T  DELAY,  HE  CALLS  THEE 
AWAY. 


John  Gambolde. 


OTELL  me  no  more  of  this  world's  vain  store, 
The  time  for  such  trifles  with  me  now  is  o'er ; 
A  country  I've  found  where  true  joys  abound, 
To  dwell  I'm  determined  on  that  happy  ground. 

The  souls  that  believe,  in  Paradise  live, 
And  me  in  that  number  will  Jesus  receive  : 
My  soul,  don't  delay — He  calls  thee  away, 
Rise,  follow  thy  Saviour,  and  bless  the  glad  day. 

No  mortal  doth  know  what  He  can  bestow, 

What  light,  strength,  and  comfort :  go  after  Him,  go; 

Lo,  onward  I  move  to  a  city  above. 

None  guesses  how  wondrous  my  journey  will  prove. 

Great  spoils  1  shall  win  from  death,  hell,  and  sin, 
'Midst  outward  afflictions  shall  feel  Christ  within  : 
And  when  I'm  to  die.  Receive  me,  I'll  cry. 
For  Jesus  hath  loved  me,  I  cannot  tell  why. 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR   HEAVEN.  465 

But  this  I  do  find,  we  two  are  so  joined, 
He'll  not  live  in  glory  and  leave  me  behind : 
So  this  is  the  race  I  am  running,  through  grace, 
Henceforth — till  admitted  to  see  my  Lord's  face. 

And  now  I'm  in  care  my  neighbors  may  share 
These  blessings :  to  seek  them  will  none  of  you  dare  ? 
In  bondage,  O  why,  and  death  will  you  lie, 
When  one  here  assures  you  free  grace  is  so  nigh  ? 


SWEET  GLORIES   RUSH    UPON    MY   SIGHT. 


Hymns  of  the  Church  Militant. 


SWEET  glories  rush  upon  my  sight, 
And  charm  my  wondering  eyes  ; 
The  regions  of  immortal  light ; 
The  beauties  of  the  skies. 

All  hail !  ye  fair  celestial  shores  ! 

Ye  lands  of  endless  day! 
Swift  on  my  view  your  prospect  pours, 

And  drives  my  griefs  away. 

There's  a  delightful  clearness  now, 
My  clouds  of  doubt  are  gone, 

Fled  is  my  former  darkness  too, 
My  fears  are  all  withdrawn. 

Short  is  the  passage  —short  the  space 
Between  my  home  and  me  ; 

There  !  there  behold  the  radiant  place  ! 
How  near  the  mansions  be  ! 
30 


466  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Immortal  Avonders  !  boundless  things  ! 

In  those  dear  worlds  appear  : 
Prepare  me,  Lord,  to  stretch  my  wings, 

And  in  those  glories  share. 


O  FOR  THE  PEARLY  GATES  OF  HEAVEN. 


Cecil  Frances  Alexander. 


THE  roseate  hues  of  early  dawn, 
The  brightness  of  the  day, 
The  crimson  of  the  sunset  sky. 
How  fast  they  fade  away! 

Oh,  for  the  pearly  gates  of  heaven  ! 

Oh,  for  the  golden  floor ! 
Oh,  for  the  Sun  of  Righteousness 

That  setteth  nevermore ! 

The  highest  hopes  we  cherish  here, 
How  fast  they  tire  and  faint  ? 

How  many  a  spot  defiles  the  robe 
That  wraps  an  earthly  saint ! 

Oh,  for  a  heart  that  never  sins  ! 

Oh,  for  a  soul  washed  white  ! 
Oh,  for  a  voice  to  praise  our  King, 

Nor  weary  day  or  night ! 

Here  faith  is  ours,  and  heavenly  hope. 
And  grace  to  lead  us  higher ; 

But  there  are  perfectness  and  peace 
Beyond  our  best  desire. 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR   HEAVEN.  467 

Oh,  by  Thy  love  and  anguish,  Lord  ! 

Oh,  by  Thy  life  laid  down  ! 
Oh,  that  we  fall  not  from  Thy  grace, 

Nor  cast  away  Thy  crown  ! 


WHEN  SHALL  I  BE,  MY  GOD,  WITH  THEE? 


Samuel  Grossman. 


SWEET  place,  sweet  place  alone, 
The  court  of  God  Most  High, 
The  heaven  of  heavens,  the  throne 

Of  spotless  majesty ! 
The  stranger  homeward  bends, 

And  sigheth  for  his  rest : 
Heaven  is  my  home  ;  my  friends 
Lodge  there  in  Abram's  breast. 
O  happy  place  ! 
When  shall  I  be, 
My  God,  with  Thee, 
To  see  Thy  face  ? 

Earth's  but  a  sorry  tent 

Pitched  for  a  few  frail  days, 
A  short-leased  tenement ; 

Heaven's  still  my  song,  my  praise. 
No  tears  from  any  eyes 

Drop  in  that  holy  choir  ; 
But  death  itself  there  dies. 

And  sighs  themselves  expire. 


468  HEAVEN   IN    SONG. 

O  happy  place  ! 
When  shall  I  be, 
My  God,  with  Thee, 

To  see  Thy  face  ? 


There  should  temptations  cease; 
My  frailties  there  should  end  ; 
There  should  I  rest  in  peace, 

In  the  arms  of  my  best  Friend. 
Jerusalem  on  high 

My  song  and  city  is, 
My  home  whene'er  I  die, 
The  centre  of  my  bliss. 
O  happy  place ! 
When  shall  I  be. 
My  God,  with  Thee, 
To  see  Thy  face  ? 


Thy  walls,  sweet  city,  thine, 

With  pearls  are  garnished  ; 
Thy  gates  with  praises  shine. 

Thy  streets  with  gold  are  spread  ; 
No  sun  by  day  shines  there, 
Nor  moon  by  silent  night : 
Oh  no  !  these  needless  are  ; 
The  Lamb's  the  city's  light. 
O  happy  place  ! 
When  shall  I  be. 
My  God,  with  Thee, 
To  see  Thy  face  ? 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR   HEAVEN.  469 

There  dwells  my  Lord,  my  King, 

Judged  here  unfit  to  live  ; 
There  angels  to  Him  sing, 
And  lowly  homage  give  ; 
The  Lamb's  apostles  there 
I  might  with  joy  behold  ; 
The  harpers  I  might  hear 
Harping  on  harps  of  gold. 
O  happy  place  ! 
When  shall  I  be, 
My  God,  with  Thee, 
To  see  Thy  face  ? 

The  bleeding  martyrs,  they 

Within  those  courts  are  found, 
All  clothed  in  pure  array. 

Their  scars  with  glory  crowned. 
Ah  me  !  ah  me !  that  I 

In  Kedar's  tents  here  stay! 
No  place  like  this  on  high  ! 
Thither,  Lord,  guide  my  way  ! 
O  happy  place  ! 
When  shall  I  be, 
My  God,  with  Thee, 
To  see  Thy  face  ? 


470  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


LEAD  us  TO  THY  HOME. 


Francis  Turner  Palgrave. 


STAR  of  morn  and  even, 
Sun  of  Heaven's  heaven, 
Saviour  high  and  dear, 
Toward  us  turn  Thine  ear ; 
Through  whate'er  may  come, 
Thou  canst  lead  us  home. 

Though  the  gloom  be  grievous. 
Those  we  leant  on  leave  us  ; 
Though  the  coward  heart 
Quit  its  proper  part, 
Though  the  tempter  come, 
Thou  wilt  lead  us  home. 

Saviour  pure  and  holy, 
Lover  of  the  lowly, 
Sign  us  with  Thy  sign, 
Take  our  hands  in  Thine  ; 
Take  our  hands  and  come 
Lead  Thy  children  home ! 

Star  of  morn  and  even 
Shine  on  us  from  Heaven  ; 
From  Thy  glory-throne 
Hear  Thy  very  own  ! 
Lord  and  Saviour,  come. 
Lead  us  to  our  home  ! 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR   HEAVEN.  47^ 


I  LOVE  TO  THINK  OF  HEAVEN. 


SWAINE. 


I   LOVE  to  think  of  heaven,  where  I  shall  meet 
My  fellow  travellers,  and  where  no  more 
With  grief  or  sin  my  mind  will  be  disturbed  ; 
Where  holy  saints  and  holy  angels  dwell 
In  constant  harmony  and  mutual  love. 
But  when  my  heart  anticipates  the  sight 
Of  God  Incarnate^  wearing  on  His  side 
And  hands  and  feet,  those  marks  of  love  divine 
Which  He  on  Calvary  for  me  endured, 
All  heaven  is  swallowed  up  in  this  ; 
And  He  who  is  my  hope  of  heaven  below 
Appears  the  glory  of  my  heaven  above. 


HASTE,  MY  BELOVED,  RAISE  MY  SOUL. 


Isaac  Watts. 


FROM  Thee,  my  God,  my  joys  shall  rise. 
And  run  eternal  rounds. 
Beyond  the  limits  of  the  skies, 

And  all  created  bounds. 
The  holy  triumphs  of  my  soul 
Shall  death  itself  outbrave, 
Leave  dull  mortality  behind, 
And  fly  beyond  the  grave. 


4/2  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

There,  where  my  blessed  Jesus  reigns, 

In  heaven's  unmeasured  space, 
I'll  spend  a  long  eternity 

In  pleasure  and  in  praise. 
Millions  of  years  my  wondering  eyes 

Shall  o'er  thy  beauties  rove, 
And  endless  ages  I'll  adore 

The  glories  of  thy  love. 

My  Saviour!  every  smile  of  Thine 

Shall  fresh  endearments  bring, 
And  thousand  tastes  of  new  delight 

From  all  Thy  graces  spring. 
Haste,  my  Beloved  !  raise  my  soul 

Up  to  Thy  blest  abode  ; 
Fly  1  for  my  spirit  longs  to  see 

My  Saviour  and  my  God  ! 


LET  ME  BE  WITH  THEE  WHERE  THOU 

ART. 


Charlotte  Elliott. 


LET  me  be  with  Thee    where  Thou  art, 
My  Saviour,  my  eternal  Rest  ; 
Then  only  will  this  longing  heart 
Be  fully  and  forever  blest. 

Let  me  be  with  Thee  where  Thou  art, 
Thy  unveiled  glory  to  behold  ; 

Then  only  will  this  wandering  heart 

Cease  to  be  treacherous,  faithless,  cold. 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR    HEAVEN.  473 

Let  me  be  with  Thee  where  Thou  art, 
Where  spotless  saints  Thy  name  adore  ; 

Then  only  will  this  sinful  heart 
Be  evil  and  defiled  no  more. 

Let  me  be  with  Thee  where  Thou  art, 
Where  none  can  die,  where  none  remove  ; 

There  neither  death  nor  life  will  part 
Me  from  Thy  presence  and  Thy  love. 


I  SEND  THE  JOYS  OF  EARTH  AWAY. 


Isaac  Watts. 


I   SEND  the  joys  of  earth  away  ; 
Away,  ye  tempters  of  the  mind, 
False  as  the  smooth,  deceitful  sea, 
And  empty  as  the  whistling  wind  ! 

Your  streams  were  floating  me  along, 
Down  to  the  gulf  of  black  despair  ; 

And  while  I  listened  to  your  song, 

Your  streams  had  ev'n  conveyed  me  there. 

Lord  !  I  adore  Thy  matchless  grace. 
Which  warned  me  of  that  dark  abyss, 

Which  drew  me  from  those  treacherous  seas, 
And  bade  me  seek  superior  bliss. 

Now  to  the  shining  realms  above 

I  stretch  my  hands  and  glance  my  eyes  ; 

Oh  for  the  pinions  of  a  dove 
To  bear  me  to  the  upper  skies ! 


474  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

There,  from  the  bosom  of  my  God, 
Oceans  of  endless  pleasure  roll  ; 

There  would  I  fix  my  last  abode, 
And  drown  the  sorrows  of  my  soul ! 


RISE,  MY  SOUL,  AND  STRETCH  THY  WINGS. 


Robert  Seagravb. 


RISE,  my  soul,  and  stretch  thy  wings, 
Thy  better  portion  trace  ; 
Rise  from  transitory  things 

Toward  heaven,  thy  native  place  : 
Sun,  and  moon,  and  stars  decay  ; 

Time  shall  soon  this  earth  remove  ; 
Rise,  my  soul,  and  haste  away 
To  seats  prepared  above. 

Rivers  to  the  ocean  run, 

Nor  stay  in  all  their  course  ; 
Fire,  ascending,  seeks  the  sun  ; 

Both  speed  them  to  their  source  : 
So  a  soul  that's  born  of  God, 

Pants  to  view  His  glorious  face, 
Upward  tends  to  His  abode, 

To  rest  in  His  embrace. 

Fly  me,  riches,  fly  me,  cares. 

Whilst  I  that  coast  explore ; 
Flattering  world,  with  all  thy  snares, 

Solicit  me  no  more  ! 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR   HEAVEN.  475 

Pilgrims  fix  not  here  their  home  ; 

Strangers  tarry  but  a  night  ; 
When  the  last  dear  morn  is  come, 

They'll  rise  to  joyful  hght. 

Cease,  ye  pilgrims,  cease  to  mourn, 

Press  onward  to  the  prize  ; 
Soon  our  Saviour  will  return 

Triumphant  in  the  skies : 
Yet  a  season,  and  you  know 

Happy  entrance  will  be  given, 
All  our  sorrows  left  below, 

And  earth  exchanged  for  heaven. 


MY  SAVIOUR  BECKONS  FROM  ON  HIGH. 


From  the  London  Record. 


I"  Hush  Heaven  I "  were  the  last  words  of  the  late  Bishop  of  Durham.] 

HUSH  !  Heaven  !  he  whispered  soft  and  clear, 
As  notes  angelic  caught  his  ear  ; 
Then  quitting  earth  and  mortal  clay, 
His  spirit  soared  to  heavenly  day. 

Hush  I  stay  your  sorrows,  loved  ones,  stay ! 
1  would  not  linger  by  the  way — 
Now  Death  for  me  has  lost  its  sting! 
I  hear  the  welcome  of  my  King  ! 


4/6  HEAVEN    IN    SON(;. 

Hush  !  from  the  everlasting  hills 
The  glorious  trumpet's  echo  thrills, — 
The  mighty  Conqueror  leads  the  band, 
And  I  must  ready  waiting  stand. 

Hush  !  'tis  the  song  of  lasting  peace, 
All  struggles  now  forever  cease, 
Each  bitter  pang,  each  weary  sigh — 
My  Saviour  beckons  from  on  high  ! 

Hush  !  sin  can  ne'er  disturb  me  more, 
I'm  treading  close  on  Canaan's  shore! 
Oh,  earth  !  be  still !  for  I  would  fain 
List  to  this  new  and  wondrous  strain  ! 

Hush  !  'tis  a  charmed  spirit  swell 

Of  sweetest  chords.     No  tongue  can  tell 

To  earth  the  grandeur  of  its  flow! 

'Tis  Heaven!     Then  life  has  closed  below! 

He  fled  !  to  join  the  brilliant  throng, 
To  add  fresh  triumph  to  "  the  song  " — 
And,  ere  the  link  to  earth  was  riven. 
Death  was  dissolved  in  tasting  Heaven ! 


COME  LET  US  JOIN  OUR  FRIENDS  ABOVE. 


Charles  Weslhy. 


COME,  let  us  join  our  friends  above 
That  have  obtained  the  prize, 
And  on  the  eagle  wings  of  love 
To  joys  celestial  rise  ; 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR   HEAVEN.  477 

Let  all  the  saints  terrestrial  sing 

With  those  to  glory  gone, 
For  all  the  servants  of  our  King 

In  earth  and  heaven  are  one. 

One  family  we  dwell  in  Him, 

One  church  above,  beneath, 
Though  now  divided  by  the  stream, — 

The  narrow  stream  of  death  ; 
One  army  of  the  living  God, 

To  His  command  we  bow  ; 
Part  of  His  host  have  crossed  the  flood, 

And  part  are  crossing  now. 

Ten  thousand  to  their  endless  home 

This  solemn  moment  fly  ; 
And  we  are  to  the  margin  come. 

And  we  expect  to  die  ; 
His  militant,  embodied  host. 

With  wistful  looks  we  stand, 
And  long  to  see  that  happy  coast 

And  reach  the  heavenly  land. 

Our  old  companions  in  distress 

We  haste  again  to  see, 
And  eager  long  for  our  release 

And  full  felicity  ; 
Even  now  by  faith  we  join  our  hands 

With  those  that  went  before. 
And  greet  the  blood-besprinkled  bands 

On  the  eternal  shore. 


478  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Our  spirits,  too,  shall  quickly  join, 

Like  theirs,  with  glory  crowned, 
And  shout  to  see  our  Captain's  sign. 

To  hear  His  trumpet  sound  ; 
Oh  that  we  now  might  grasp  our  Guide  I 

Oh  that  the  word  were  given  ! 
Come,  Lord  of  hosts,  the  waves  divide, 

And  land  us  all  in  heaven  ! 


MEET   AGAIN!    YES,    WE    SHALL    MEET 
AGAIN. 


From  the  German  of  M.  A.  Zille. 


MEET  again !  yes,  we  shall  meet  again, 
Though  now  we  part  in  pain  ; 
His  people  all 

Together  Christ  shall  call — 
Hallelujah  ! 

Soon  the  days  of  absence  shall  be  o'er, 
And  thou  shalt  weep  no  more ; 

Our  meeting-day 

Shall  wipe  all  tears  away — 
Hallelujah  ! 

Now  I  go  with  gladness  to  our  home, 
With  gladness  thou  shalt  comxe ; 

There  I  will  wait 

To  meet  thee  at  heaven's  gate — 
Hallelujah  ? 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR   HEAVEN.  479 

Dearest,  what  delight  again  to  share 
Our  sweet  communion  there — 

To  walk  among 

The  holy  ransomed  throng — 
Hallelujah ! 

Here,  in  many  a  grief,  our  hearts  were  one, 
But  there  in  joys  alone  ; 

Joy  fading  never, 

Increasing,  deepening  ever — 
Hallelujah  ! 

Not  to  mortal  sight  can  it  be  given 
To  know  the  bliss  of  heaven  ; 

But  thou  shalt  be 

Soon  there,  and  sing  with  me, 
Hallelujah  ! 

Meet  again  !  yes,  we  shall  meet  again, 
Though  now  we  part  in  pain ; 

Together  all 

His  people  Christ  shall  call — 
Hallelujah  ! 


JOYS  OF  THE  EARTH,  YE  FADE  AWAY. 


From  the  Christian  Examiner. 


THE  earth,  all  light    and    loveliness   in   summer's 
golden  hours, 
Smiles  in  her  bridal  vesture  clad,  and  crowned  with 
festal  flowers 


48o  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

So  radiantly  beautiful,  so  like  to  heaven  above, 
We  scarce  can  deem  more  fair  that  world  of  perfect 
bliss  and  love. 

Is  this  a  shadow  faint  and  dim  of  that  which  is  to  come  ? 
What    shall    the   unveiled   glories  be   of  our    celestial 

home, 
Where  waves  the  glorious  tree  of  life,  where  streams 

of  bliss  gush  free. 
And  all  is  glowing  in  the  light  of  immortality! 

To  see  again  the  home  of  youth,  when  weary  years 
have  passed, 

Serenely  bright  as  when  we  turned  and  looked  upon  it 
last, 

To  hear  the  voice  of  love,  to  meet  the  rapturous  em- 
brace, 

To  gaze  through  tears  of  gladness  on  each  dear  famil- 
iar face, — 

Oh  !  this  indeed  is  joy,  though  here  we  meet  again  to 
part  ; 

But  what  transporting  bliss  awaits  the  pure  and  faith- 
ful heart. 

Where  it  shall  find  the  loved  and  lost,  those  who  have 
gone  before, 

Where  every  tear  is  wiped  away,  where  partings  are 
no  more  ! 

When,   on    devotion's   seraph   wings,   the   spirit   soars 

above. 
And  feels  thy  presence,  Father,  Friend,  God  of  eternal 

love — 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR    HEAVEN.  48 1 

Joys  of  the  earth,  ye  fade  away  before  that  living  ray 
Which  gives  to  the  rapt  soul  a  ghmpse  of  pare  and  per- 
fect day, — 

A  gleam  of  heaven's  own  light,  though  now  its  bright- 
ness scarce  appears 

Through  the  dim  shadows  which  are  spread  around  this 
vale  of  tears  ; 

But  thine  unclouded  smile,  O  God,  fills  all  that  glori- 
ous place, 

Where  we  shall  know  as  we  are  known,  and  see  thee 
face  to  face  ! 


WORTHIES  THERE  OF  SACRED  STORY. 


From  the  German  of  J.  G.  Albinus,  by  H.  Mills. 


ALL  must  die  I  there's  no  redemption ; 
Flesh  !  'tis  all  alike  but  grass ! 
None  that  live  can  plead  exemption  ; 
Saints  through  death  to  glory  pass. 
This  vile  body  here  must  perish 
Ere,  immortal,  it  can  cherish 
Holy  joys,  the  free  reward 
For  the  ransomed  of  the  Lord. 

Life  on  earth  can  I  then  covet 

Longer  than  my  God  shall  please  ? 

When  above  he  would  remove  it, 
I  will  greet  the  soul's  release. 
31 


482  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

For,  through  what  my  Saviour  suffered, 
Freedom  from  the  curse  is  offered  ; 
He  has  promised,  and  to  faith 
Gives  the  victory  over  death. 

Death — for  me  the  Saviour  bore  it ; 

Dying,  won  for  me  the  prize  : 
Life — he  will  in  bliss  restore  it ; 

Shall  I  not  then  joyful  rise 
From  this  world  of  sin  and  anguish 
To  that  world  for  which  I  languish. 

There  the  Three  in  One  to  praise. 

With  His  saints,  through  endless  days? 

Happy  spirits,  ever  living, 

Thousand  thousands  all  as  one, 
Robed  in  light,  their  worship  giving, 

There  rejoice  before  the  throne. 
There  the  seraphim  are  shining, 
Evermore  in  chorus  joining — 

'*  Holy!  holy!  holy  Lord! 

Be  thy  holy  name  adored  !  " 

Worthies,  there,  of  sacred  story, 

Prophets,  patriarchs,  are  met ; 
There,  apostles,  too,  in  glory 

Fill  their  thrones  by  Jesus  set  ; 
All  the  saints  that  have  ascended, 
Age  on  age  through  time  extended, 

There  in  blissful  concert  sing 

Hallelujahs  to  their  King. 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR   HEAVEN.  483 

O  Jerusalem,  thou  fairest ! 

In  thy  King  how  greatly  blest ! 
Praising  thou  his  splendor  sharest 

Through  thy  streets  of  holy  rest : 
Joy  and  peace,  in  thee  united, 
By  no  fear  of  change  are  blighted, 

Balmy  fragrance  cheers  the  day, 

Which  no  night  shall  drive  away. 

Yes,  methinks  I  now  behold  it, 

That  fair  city  of  delight ; 
Now  the  robe — around  me  fold  it, 

Robe  of  dazzling,  purest  white  ; 
There,  a  crown  of  victory  wearing, 
There,  before  the  throne  appearing, 

Mingle  with  the  heirs  of  bliss, 

Where  hosannas  never  cease. 


WORLD,  FAREWELL!  OF  THEE  I'M  TIRED. 


From  the  German  of  J.  G.  Albinus,  by  Miss  C.  Winkworth. 


WORLD,  farewell!  of  thee  Fm  tired, 
Now  toward  heaven  my  way  I  take ; 
There  is  peace  the  long-desired, 

Lofty  calm  that  nought  can  break. 
World,  with  thee  is  war  and  strife, 
Thou  with  cheating  hopes  art  rife ; 
But  in  heaven  is  no  alloy. 
Only  peace,  and  love,  and  joy. 


484  HEAVEN    IN    SONG. 

When  I  reach  that  home  of  gladness, 

1  shall  feel  no  more  this  load, 
Feel  no  sickness,  want,  or  sadness, 

Resting  in  the  arms  of  God. 
In  the  world  woes  follow  fast, 
And  a  bitter  death  comes  last, 
But  in  heaven  shall  nought  destroy 
Endless  peace,  and  love,  and  joy. 

What  are  earthly  joys  ?  a  weary 

Chase  of  mist,  or  wind-borne  foam. 
On  this  desert  black  and  dreary 

Sins  and  vices  have  their  home  ; 
Thine,  O  world,  are  war  and  strife. 
Mocking  pleasures,  dying  life  ; 
But  in  heaven  is  no  annoy, 
Only  peace,  and  love,  and  joy. 

Oh,  the  music  and  the  singing 

Of  the  host  redeemed  by  love  ! 
Oh,  the  hallelujahs  ringing 

Through  the  halls  of  light  above  ! 
Thine,  O  world,  the  scornful  sneer. 
Misery  thy  reward,  and  fear  ; 
But  in  heaven  is  no  annoy, 
Only  peace,  and  love,  and  joy. 

Here  is  nought  but  care  and  mourning ; 

Comes  a  joy,  it  will  not  stay ; 
Fairly  shines  the  sun  at  dawning, 

Night  will  soon  o'ercloud  the  day  ; 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR   HEAVEN.  485 

World,  with  thee  we  weep  and  pine ; 
Gnawing  care  and  grief  are  thine  ; 
But  in  heaven  is  no  alloy, 
Only  peace,  and  love,  and  joy. 

Onward,  then ;  not  long  I  wander, 

Ere  my  Saviour  comes  for  me, 
And  with  Him  abiding  yonder, 

All  His  glory  I  shall  see ; 
For  there's  nought  but  sorrow  here, 
Toil,  and  pain,  and  many  a  fear  ; 
But  in  heaven  is  no  alloy, 
Only  peace,  and  love,  and  joy. 

Well  for  him  whom  death  has  landed 

Safely  on  yon  blessed  shore, 
Where,  in  joyful  worship  banded, 

Sing  the  faithful  evermore  ; 
For  the  world  hath  strife  and  war  ; 
All  her  works  and  hopes  they  mar  ; 
But  in  heaven  is  no  annoy. 
Only  peace,  and  love,  and  joy. 

Time,  thou  speedest  on  but  slowly ; 

Hours,  how  tardy  is  your  pace. 
Ere  with  Him,  the  High  and  Holy, 

I  hold  converse,  face  to  face ; 
World,  with  partings  thou  art  rife. 
Filled  with  tears,  and  storms,  and  strife  ; 
But  in  heaven  can  nought  destroy 
Endless  peace,  and  love,  and  joy. 


486  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Therefore  will  I  now  prepare  me, 

That  my  work  may  stand  His  doom, 
And,  when  all  is  sinking  round  me, 

I  may  hear,  not  Go,  but  Come  ! 
World,  the  voice  of  grief  is  here, 
Outward  seeming,  care,  and  fear ; 
But  in  heaven  is  no  alloy. 
Only  peace,  and  love,  and  joy. 


YE   ANGELS    WHO    STAND     ROUND     THE 
THRONE. 


De  Fleury. 


YE  angels  who  stand  round  the  throne. 
And  view  my  Immanuel's  face. 
In  rapturous  songs  make  Him  known  ; 

Tune,  tune  your  soft  harps  to  His  praise 
He  formed  you  the  spirits  you  are. 

So  happy,  so  noble,  so  good  ; 
When  others  sunk  down  in  despair. 
Confirmed  by  His  power  ye  stood. 

Ye  saints,  who  stand  nearer  than  they. 

And  cast  your  bright  crowns  at  His  feet. 
His  grace  and  His  glory  display. 

And  all  His  rich  mercy  repeat  ; 
He  snatched  you  from  hell  and  the  grave  ; 

He  ransomed  from  death  and  despair  ; 
For  you  He  was  mighty  to  save, 

Almighty  to  bring  you  safe  there. 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR    HEAVEN.  487 

Oh,  when  will  the  moment  appear 

When  I  shall  unite  in  your  song  ? 
I'm  weary  of  lingering  here, 

And  I  to  your  Saviour  belong ; 
I'm  fettered  and  chained  up  in  clay  ; 

I  struggle  and  pant  to  be  free ; 
I  long  to  be  soaring  away. 

My  God  and  my  Saviour  to  see. 

I  want  to  put  on  my  attire, 

Washed  white  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb ; 
I  want  to  be  one  of  your  choir. 

And  tune  my  sweet  harp  to  His  name  ; 
I  want,  oh,  I  want  to  be  there, 

Where  sorrow  and  sin  bid  adieu. 
Your  joy  and  your  friendship  to  share, 

To  wonder  and  worship  with  you  ! 


WHILE  ON  THE  VERGE  OF  LIFE  I  STAND. 


Philip  Doddridge. 


WHILE  on  the  verge  of  life  I  stand, 
And  view  the  scenes  on  either  hand, 
My  spirit  struggles  with  its  clay, 
And  longs  to  wing  its  flight  away. 

Where  Jesus  dwells  my  soul  would  be  ; 
It  faints  my  much-loved  Lord  to  see ; 
Earth,  twine  no  more  about  my  heart, 
For  'tis  far  better  to  depart. 


488  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Come,  ye  angelic  envoys,  come, 
And  lead  the  willing  pilgrim  home ; 
Ye  know  the  way  to  Jesus'  throne, 
Source  of  my  joys  and  of  your  own. 

That  blessed  interview  how  sweet, 
To  fall  transported  at  His  feet  ; 
Raised  in  His  arms,  to  view  His  face, 
Through  the  full  beamings  of  His  grace  ; 

To  see  heaven's  shining  courtiers  round, 
Each  with  immortal  glories  crowned, 
And,  while  His  form  in  each  I  trace. 
Beloved  and  loving  all  to  embrace ; 

As  with  a  seraph's  voice  to  sing ; 
To  fly  as  on  a  cherub's  wing ; 
Performing,  with  unwearied  hands, 
A  present  Saviour's  high  commands ! 

Yet,  with  these  prospects  full  in  sight, 
I'll  wait  Thy  signal  for  my  flight  ; 
For,  while  Thy  service  I  pursue, 
I  find  my  heaven  begun  below. 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR   HEAVEN.  489 


I  LONG  TO  BEHOLD  HIM  ARRAYED. 


Charles    Wesley. 


I   LONG  to  behold  Him  arrayed 
With  glory  and  light  from  above, 
The  King  in  His  beauty  displayed, 

His  beauty  of  holiest  love  ; 
I  languish  and  sigh  to  be  there, 

Where  Jesus  has  fixed  His  abode  ; 
Oh,  when  shall  we  meet  in  the  air, 
And  fly  to  the  mountain  of  God  ! 

With  Him  I  on  Zion  shall  stand, 

For  Jesus  hath  spoken  the  word. 
The  breadth  of  Immanuel's  land 

Survey  by  the  light  of  my  Lord  ; 
But  when,  on  Thy  bosom  reclined, 

Thy  face  I  am  strengthened  to  see, 
My  fulness  of  rapture  I  find. 

My  heaven  of  heavens,  in  Thee. 

How  happy  the  people  that  dwell 

Secure  in  the  city  above  ! 
No  pain  the  inhabitants  feel. 

No  sickness  or  sorrow  shall  prove. 
Physician  of  souls,  unto  me 

Forgiveness  and  holiness  give  ; 
And  then  from  the  body  set  free. 

And  then  to  the  city  receive  ! 


490  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 


OH  FOR  THE  WINGS  OF  FAITH  AND  LOVE. 


Mrs.  Anne  Steele. 


OH  for  the  wings  of  faith  and  love, 
To  bear  my  thoughts  and  hopes  above 
These  Httle  scenes  of  care  ! 
Above  these  gloomy  mists  which  rise, 
And  pain  my  heart,  and  cloud  my  eyes, 

To  see  the  dawn  of  heavenly  day,  and  breathe  celes- 
tial air. 

Yet  higher  would  I  stretch  my  flight. 
And  reach  the  sacred  courts  of  light, 

Where  my  Redeemer  reigns  ; 
Far-beaming  from  His  radiant  throne. 
Immortal  splendors,  joys  unknown. 

With  never-fading  lustre,  shine  o'er  all  the  blissful 
plains. 

Ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand  tongues 
There  join  in  rapture-breathing  songs, 

And  tunc  the  golden  lyre 
To  Jesus,  their  exalted  Lord  ; 
Dear  name,  how  loved,  and  how  adored  ! 

His  charms  awake  the  heavenly  strain,  and  every 
note  inspire. 

No  short-lived  pleasure  there  beguiles. 
But  perfect  bliss  forever  smiles, 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR    HEAVEN.  49I 

With  undeclining  ray  ; 
Thither  my  thoughts  would  fain  ascend, 
But,  ah  !  to  dust  and  earth  they  bend, 

Fettered  with  empty  vanities,  and  chained  to  lifeless 
clay. 

Dear  Lord,  and  shall  I  ever  be 
So  far  from  bliss,  so  far  from  Thee, 

An  exile  from  the  sky  ? 
Oh  break  these  chains,  my  wishes  fire, 
And  upward  bid  my  heart  aspire  ; 

Without  Thy  aid  I  cannot  rise  ;  oh  give  me  wings 
to  fly! 


THY  PRESENCE  BEAMS  ETERNAL  DAY. 


Mrs.  Anne  Steele. 


SHOULD  nature's  charms,  to  please  the  eye. 
In  sweet  assemblage  join, 
All  nature's  charms  would  droop  and  die, 
Jesus,  compared  with  Thine. 

Vain  were  her  fairest  beams  displayed, 

And  vain  her  blooming  store ; 
Even  brightness  languishes  to  shade. 

And  beauty  is  no  more. 

But  ah,  how  far  from  mortal  sight 

The  Lord  of  glory  dwells  ! 
A  veil  of  interposing  night 

His  radiant  face  conceals. 


492  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Oh  could  my  longing  spirit  rise 
On  strong,  immortal  wing. 

And  reach  Thy  palace  in  the  skies, 
My  Saviour  and  my  King ! 

Thy  presence  beams  eternal  day 
O'er  all  the  blissful  place  ; 

Who  would  not  drop  this  load  of  clay 
And  die  to  see  Thy  face  ? 


TO  JESUS  THE  CROWN  OF  MY  HOPE. 


William  Cowper. 


TO  Jesus,  the  crown  of  my  hope ! 
My  soul  is  in  haste  to  be  gone  ; 
Oh  bear  me,  ye  cherubim,  up, 

And  waft  me  away  to  His  throne  ! 

My  Saviour,  whom  absent  I  love, 
Whom,  not  having  seen,  I  adore, 

Whose  name  is  exalted  above 
All  glory,  dominion,  and  power; 

Dissolve  Thou  these  bonds,  that  detain 
My  soul  from  her  portion  in  Thee  ; 

Ah,  strike  off  this  adamant  chain, 
And  make  me  eternally  free  ! 

When  that  happy  era  begins. 

When  arrayed  in  Thy  glories  I  shine, 
Nor  grieve  any  more  by  my  sins 

The  bosom  on  which  I  recline, — 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR   HEAVEN.  493 

Oh  then  shall  the  veil  be  removed. 

And  round  me  Thy  brightness  be  poured  ; 

I  shall  meet  Him  whom  absent  I  loved, 
I  shall  see  whom  unseen  I  adored. 

And  then  never  more  shall  the  fears, 

The  trials,  temptations,  and  woes. 
Which  darken  this  valley  of  tears. 

Intrude  on  my  blissful  repose. 

Or,  if  yet  remembered  above, 

Remembrance  no  sadness  shall  raise  ; 

They  will  be  but  new  signs  of  Thy  love. 
New  themes  for  my  wonder  and  praise. 

Thus  the  strokes  which  from  sin  and  from  pain 

Shall  set  me  eternally  free. 
Will  but  strengthen  and  rivet  the  chain 

Which  binds  me,  my  Saviour,  to  Thee. 


WHEN  YONDER  GLORIOUS  SKY. 


From  the  Spanish  of  Ponce  de  Leon,  by  J.  Bowring. 


WHEN  yonder  glorious  sky. 
Lighted  with  million  lamps,  I  contemplate, 
And  turn  my  dazzled  eye 
To  this  vain  mortal  state. 
All  dim  and  visionary,  mean  and  desolate, — 


494  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

A  mingled  joy  and  -grief 
Fills  all  my  soul  with  dark  solicitude ; 

I  find  a  short  relief 

In  tears,  whose  torrents  rude 
Roll  down  my  cheeks,  or  thoughts  which  thus  intrude 

Thou  so  sublime  abode, 
Temple  of  light,  and  beauty's  fairest  shrine! 

My  soul,  a  spark  of  God, 

Aspiring  to  thy  seats  divine, 
Why,  why  is  it  condemned  in  this  dull  cell  to  pine  ? 

Why  should  I  ask  in  vain 
For  truth's  pure  lamp,  and  wander  here  alone, 

Seeking,  through  toil  and  pain, 

Light  from  the  Eternal  One, 
Following  a  shadow  still  that  glimmers  and  is  gone? 

Dreams  and  delusions  play 
With  man  ;  he  thinks  not  of  his  mortal  fate  ; 

Death  treads  his  silent  way  ; 

The  earth  turns  round  ;  and  then,  too  late, 
Man  finds  no  beam  is  left  of  all  his  fancied  state. 

Rise  from  your  sleep,  vain  men  ! 
Look  round,  and  ask  if  spirits  born  of  heaven, 

And  bound  to  heaven  again. 

Were  only  lent  or  given 
To  be  in  this  mean  round  of  shades  and  follies  driven. 

Turn  your  unclouded  eye 
Up  to  yon  bright,  to  yon  eternal  spheres, 

And  spurn  the  vanity 

Of  time's  delusive  years. 
And  all  its  flattering  hopes,  and  all  its  frowning  fears 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR   HEAVEN.  49$ 

What  is  the  ground  ye  tread, 
But  a  mere  point,  compared  with  that  vast  space 

Around,  above  you  spread, 

Where,  in  the  Almighty's  face, 
The  present,  future,  past,  hold  an  eternal  place  ? 

List  to  the  concert  pure 
Of  yon  harmonious,  countless  worlds  of  light ! 

See,  in  his  orbit  sure 

Each  takes  his  journey  bright, 
Led  by  an  unseen  hand  through  the  vast  maze  of  nights 

But  who  to  these  can  turn. 
And  weigh  them  'gainst  a  weeping  world  like  this, 

Nor  feel  his  spirit  burn 

To  grasp  so  sweet  a  bliss, 
And  mourn  that  exile  hard  which  here  his  portion  is  ? 

For  there,  and  there  alone. 
Are  peace,  and  joy,  and  never-dying  love, — 

There,  on  a  splendid  throne, 

'Midst  all  those  fires  above. 
In  glories  and  delights  which  never  wane  nor  move. 

Oh  wondrous  blessedness. 
Whose  shadowy  effluence  hope  o'er  time  can  fling ! 

Day  that  shall  never  cease, — 

No  night  there  threatening, 
No  winter  there  to  chill  joy's  ever-during  spring. 

Ye  fields  of  changeless  green. 
Covered  with  living  streams  and  fadeless  flowers, 

Thou  paradise  serene  ! 

Eternal,  joyful  hours 
My  disembodied  soul  shall  welcome  in  thy  bowers. 


496  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


OH  FOR  THE  ROBES  OF  WHITENESS! 


Charitie  Lees  Smith. 


OH  for  the  robes  ef  whiteness  ! 
Oh  for  the  tearless  eyes  ! 
Oh  for  the  glorious  brightness 
Of  the  unclouded  skies  ! 

Oh  for  the  no  more  weeping 
Within  the  land  of  love, 
The  endless  joy  of  keeping 
The  bridal  feast  above ! 

Oh  for  the  bliss  of  dying, 
My  risen  Lord  to  meet ! 
Oh  for  the  rest  of  lying 
Forever  at  His  feet ! 

Oh  for  the  hour  of  seeing 
My  Saviour  face  to  face. 
The  hope  of  ever  being 
In  that  sweet  meeting-place ! 

Jesus,  Thou  King  of  glory, 
I  soon  shall  dwell  with  thee ; 
I  soon  shall  sing  the  story 
Of  Thy  great  love  to  me ! 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR   HEAVEN.  497 

Meanwhile  my  thoughts  shall  enter 
E'en  now,  before  Thy  throne 
That  all  my  love  may  centre 
On  Thee,  and  Thee  alone ! 


WHAT  JOY  WHILE  THUS  I  VIEW  THE  DAY 


From  the  Latin  of  Zuinger,  by  Merrick. 


WHAT  joy,  while  thus  I  view  the  day 
That  warns  my  thirsting  soul  away, 
What  transport  fills  my  breast ! 
For,  lo  !  my  great  Redeemer's  power 
Unfolds  the  everlasting  door, 
And  leads  me  to  His  rest. 

The  festive  morn,  my  God,  is  come 
That  calls  me  to  the  hallowed  dome, 

Thy  presence  to  adore  ; 
My  feet  the  summons  shall  attend, 
With  willing  steps  Thy  courts  ascend, 

And  tread  th'  ethereal  floor. 

E'en  now  to  my  expecting  eyes 

The  heaven-built  towers  of  Salem  rise  ; 

E'en  now,  with  glad  survey, 
I  view  her  mansions,  that  contain 
Th'  angelic  forms,  an  awful  train, 

And  shine  with  cloudless  day. 
32 


498  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Hither,  from  earth's  remotest  end, 
Lo  !  the  redeemed  of  God  ascend, 

Their  tribute  hither  bring  ; 
Here,  crowned  with  everlasting  joy, 
In  hymns  of  praise  their  tongues  employ, 

And  hail  the  immortal  King ; — 

Great  Salem's  King,  who  bids  each  state 
On  her  decrees  dependent  wait ; 

In  her,  ere  time  begun. 
High  on  eternal  base  upreared. 
His  hands  the  regal  seat  prepared 

For  Jesse's  favored  Son. 

Mother  of  cities  !  o'er  thy  head 

See  Peace,  with  healing  wings  outspread, 

Delighted  fix  her  stay  ; 
How  blest  who  calls  himself  thy  friend 
Success  his  labors  shall  attend, 

And  safety  guard  his  way. 

Thy  walls,  remote  from  hostile  fear, 
Nor  the  loud  voice  of  tumult  hear. 

Nor  war's  wild  wastes  deplore  ; 
There  smiling  Plenty  takes  her  stand. 
And  in  thy  courts  with  lavish  hand 

Has  poured  forth  all  her  store. 

Let  me,  blest  seat,  my  name  behold 
Among  thy  citizens  enrolled; 

In  thee  forever  dwell ; 
Let  Charity  my  steps  attend. 
My  sole  companion  and  my  friend, 

And  Faith  and  Hope  farewell. 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR    HEAVEN.  499 


WOULD  GOD  I  WERE  IN  THEE. 


From  the  German  of  J.  M.  Meykart,  by  Caroline  Winkworth, 


JERUSALEM,  thou  city  fair  and  high, 
Would  God  I  were  in  thee  ! 
My  longing  heart  fain,  fain  to  thee  would  fly, — 
It  will  not  stay  with  me  ; 
Far  over  vale  and  mountain, 

Far  over  field  and  plain. 
It  hastes  to  seek  its  Fountain, 
And  quit  this  world  of  pain. 

Oh  happy  day,  and  yet  far  happier  hour. 

When  wilt  thou  come  at  last. 
When,  fearless,  to  my  Father's  love  and  power, 
Whose  promise  standeth  fast, 
My  soul  I  gladly  render? 

For  surely  will  His  hand 
Lead  her,  with  guidance  tender. 
To  heaven,  her  fatherland. 

A  moment's  space,  and  gently,  wondrously, 

Released  from  earthly  ties, 
The  fiery  chariot  bears  her  up  to  thee, 
Through  all  these  lower  skies. 
To  yonder  shining  regions  ; 

While  down  to  meet  her  come 
The  blessed  angel  legions. 
And  bid  her  welcome  home. 


500  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Oh  hail,  thou  glorious  city  !  now  unfold 

The  gates  of  grace  to  me  ! 
How  many  a  time  I  longed  for  thee  of  old, 
Ere  yet  I  was  set  free 
From  yon  dark  life  of  sadness, 

Yon  world  of  shadowy  nought, 
And  God  had  given  the  gladness, 
The  heritage  I  sought. 

Oh  what  the  nation,  what  the  glorious  host. 

Comes  sweeping  swiftly  down  ? 
The  chosen  ones  on  earth  who  wrought  the  most, 
The  church's  brightest  crown, 
Our  Lord  hath  sent  to  meet  me. 

As  in  the  far-off  years 
Their  words  oft  came  to  greet  me 
In  yonder  land  of  tears. 

The  patriarchs'  and  prophets'  noble  train, 

With  all  Christ's  followers  true. 
Who  bore  the  cross,  and  could  the  worst  disdain 
That  tyrants  dared  to  do ; 
I  see  them  shine  forever. 
All  glorious  as  the  sun, 
'Mid  light  that  fadeth  never, 
Their  perfect  freedom  won. 

And  when  within  that  lovely  Paradise 

At  last  I  safely  dwell, 
From  out  my  blissful  soul  what  songs  shall  rise. 

What  joy  my  lips  shall  tell. 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR   HEAVEN.  5OI 

While  holy  saints  are  singing 

Hosannas  o'er  and  o'er, 
Pure  hallelujahs  ringing 

Around  me  evermore. 

Innumerous  choirs  before  the  shining  throne 

Their  joyful  anthems  raise, 
Till  heaven's  glad  halls  are  echoing  with  the  tone 
Of  that  great  h}Tnn  of  praise  ; 
And  all  its  host  rejoices, 

And  all  its  blessed  throng 
Unite  their  myriad  voices 
In  one  eternal  song. 


BEYOND    THE    HILLS    WHERE    SUNS    GO 
DOWN. 


HORATIUS    BONAR. 


BEYOND  the  hills  where  suns  go  down, 
And  brightly  beckon  as  they  go, 
■»I  see  the  land  of  fair  renown, 

The  land  which  I  so  soon  shall  know. 

Above  the  dissonance  of  time. 
And  discord  of  its  angry  words, 

I  hear  the  everlasting  chime, 
The  music  of  unjarring  chords. 


502  HEAVEN   IN    SONG. 

I  bid  it  welcome,  and  my  haste 
To  join  it  cannot  brook  delay  ; 

Oh  song  of  morning,  come  at  last, 
And  ye  who  sing  it,  come  away ! 

Oh  song  of  light,  and  dawn,  and  bliss, 
Sound  over  earth,  and  fill  these  skies 

Nor  ever,  ever,  ever  cease 

Thy  soul-entrancing  melodies  ; — 

Glad  song  of  this  disburdened  earth, 
Which  holy  voices  then  shall  sing. 

Praise  for  creation's  second  birth, 
And  glory  to  creation's  King. 


O  CHRIST,  HOW  GOOD  AND  FAIR. 


From  the  German  of  Paul  GerhardI. 


O  CHRIST,  how  good  and  fair 
Will  be  my  portion  where 
Thine  eyes  on  me  shall  rest. 
And  make  me  fully  blest. 
When  from  this  narrow  earth 
To  Thee  I  shall  spring  forth ! 

What  joy,  unmixed  and  full. 
Thou  Treasure  of  the  soul, 
When,  in  that  home  above. 
Thy  heart  speaks  out  its  love 
To  all  made  one  with  Thee, 
My  brothers,  Lord,  and  me  ! 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR   HEAVEN.  503 

What  glorious  light  will  shine 
Forth  from  Thy  face  divine, 
Which  in  that  life  untold 
Then  first  I  shall  behold  ! 
How  will  Thy  goodness  free 
Fill  me  with  ecstasy  ! 

Lips,  whence  such  words  have  streamed, 
Eyes,  whence  such  pity  beamed, 
Side,  wounded  once  for  me, 
All,  all  I  then  shall  see  : 
With  reverent  rapture  greet 
Thy  pierced  hands  and  feet ! 

Ah,  Jesus,  my  "  good  part," 
How  will  my  mind  and  heart 
Vibrate  with  rapture  through. 
And  all  my  soul  grow  new, 
When  Thou,  with  smiles  of  love, 
Openest  those  gates  above  ! 

*'  Come,''  thou  wilt  say,  "  blest  child, 
Taste  pleasures  undefiled, 
And  see  the  gifts,  how  fair. 
My  Father's  hands  prepare  ; 
Pasture  thine  heart  forever 
In  joy  that  fadeth  never/' 

O  thou  poor,  passing  earth  I 
What  are  thy  treasures  worth 
Beside  those  heavenly  crowns. 
And  more  than  golden  thrones, 
Which  Christ  hath  treasured  there 
For  those  who  please  Him  here? 


504  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

This  is  the  angels*  land, 
Where  all  the  blessed  stand  ; 
Here  I  hear  nought  but  singing, 
See  all  with  gladness  springing; 
Here  is  no  cross,  no  sorrow, 
No  parting  on  the  morrow. 

When  shall  that  joy  begin  ? 
When  wilt  Thou  call  me  in  ? 
Thou  knowest  ;  but  my  feet 
Press  onward  Thee  to  meet ; 
And  my  heart,  day  by  day. 
Bears  me  to  Thee  away. 


O,  I  HAVE  HEARD  HIS  VOICE. 


Charlotte  Elmott. 


THERE  are  refreshments  sweeter  far  than  sleep, 
Though  its  soft  power 
Might  gladly  close  the  vigils  I  now  keep 

From  hour  to  hour. 
And  hush  these  vain  imaginings  to  rest, 
Which  silence  in  my  heart  its  dearest  guest. 

Oh,  I  have  heard  his  voice,  his  voice  of  love, 

In  the  still  night. 
Sweet  as  the  songs  from  seraph  hearts  above, 

Tranced  in  delight  ! 
It  haunts  my  memory,  lives  within  my  heart, 
And  makes  me  long,  yea,  languish  to  depart. 


ASPIRATIONS  FOR   HEAVEN.  505 

Those  who  have  heard  it  once  can  ne'er  forget 

That  voice  divine ; 
With  it  compared,  earth's  accents  are  not  sweet. 

My  God,  I  pine 
A  dweller  in  those  palaces  to  be. 
Where  I  shall  hear  it  through  eternity. 

Then  I  shall  ne'er  be  harassed  by  the  din 

Of  earthly  thought ; 
All  will  be  holy  and  serene  within ; 

My  spirit,  fraught 
With  deepest  reverence,  with  intense  desire, 
Will  listen  to  that  voice,  and  never  tire. 


MY  SOUL  IS  LIKE  SOME  FLUTTERED  DOVE. 


Robert  C.  Chapman. 


MY  soul,  amid  this  stormy  world, 
Is  like  some  fluttered  dove, 
And  fain  would  be  as  swift  of  wing, 
To  flee  to  Him  I  love. 

The  cords  that  bound  my  heart  to  earth 

Are  broken  by  His  hand ; 
Before  His  cross  I  found  myself, 

A  stranger  in  the  land. 

That  visage  marred,  those  sorrows  deep, 

The  vinegar  and  gall, 
Were  Jesus'  golden  chains  of  love, 

His  captive  to  enthrall. 


506  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

My  heart  is  with  Him  on  His  throne 

And  ill  can  brook  delay, 
Each  moment  listening  for  the  voice, 

*^  Rise  up,  and  come  away." 

With  hope  deferred,  oft  sick  and  faint, 
"  Why  tarries  he  ?  "  I  cry  ; 

And  should  my  Saviour  chide  my  haste, 
Sure  I  could  make  reply, — 

May  not  an  exile,  Lord,  desire 
His  own  sweet  land  to  see  ? 

May  not  a  captive  seek  release, 
A  prisoner  to  be  free  ? 

A  child,  when  far  away,  may  long 
For  home  and  kindred  dear, 

And  she  that  waits  her  absent  Lord 
May  sigh  till  he  appear. 

I  would,  my  Lord  and  Saviour,  know 
That  which  no  measure  knows ; 

Would  search  the  mystery  of  Thy  love, 
The  depth  of  all  Thy  woes. 


j^^2/^ 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR   HEAVEN.  507 


GOOD  NIGHT  TILL  THEN. 


From  the  German. 


I  JOURNEY  forth  rejoicing 
From  this  dark  vale  of  tears, 
To  heavenly  joy  and  freedom, 

From  earthly  bonds  and  fears, 
Where  Christ  our  Lord  shall  gather 

All  His  redeemed  again, 
His  kingdom  to  inherit  ; 

Good-night  till  then. 

Go  to  thy  quiet  resting, 

Poor  tenement  of  clay  ; 
From  all  thy  pain  and  weakness 

I  gladly  haste  away  ; 
But  still  in  faith  confiding 

To  find  thee  yet  again. 
All  glorious  and  immortal ; 

Good-night  till  then. 

Why  thus  so  sadly  weeping. 
Beloved  ones  of  my  heart  ? 

The  Lord  is  good  and  gracious, 
Though  now  He  bids  us  part. 

Oft  have  we  met  in  gladness. 
And  we  shall  meet  again, 

All  sorrow  left  behind  us ; 

Good-night  till  then. 


508  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

I  go  to  see  His  glory 

Whom  we  have  loved  below ; 

I  go  the  blessed  angels, 
The  holy  saints,  to  know ; 

Our  lovely  ones  departed 
I  go  to  find  again, 

And  wait  for  you  to  join  us  ; 

Good-night  till  then. 

I  hear  the  Saviour  calling; 

The  joyful  hour  has  come  ; 
The  angel  guards  are  ready 

To  guide  me  to  our  home, 
Where  Christ  our  Lord  shall  gather 

All  His  redeemed  again, 
His  kingdom  to  inherit ; 

Good-night  till  then. 


LET  ME  GO,  THE  DAY  IS  BREAKING. 


James  Montgomery. 


LET  me  go,  the  day  is  breaking 
Dear  companions,  let  me  go  ; 
We  have  spent  a  night  of  waking 

In  the  wilderness  below; 
Upward  now  I  bend  my  way ; 
Part  we  here  at  break  of  day. 


ASPIRATIONS   FOR   HEAVEN.  509 

Let  me  go ;  I  may  not  tarry, 

Wrestling  thus  with  doubts  and  fears  ; 
Angels  wait  my  soul  to  carry  ' 

Where  my  risen  Lord  appears  ; 
Friends  and  kindred,  weep  not  so ; 
If  you  love  me,  let  me  go. 

We  have  travelled  long  together, 

Hand  in  hand  and  heart  in  heart, 
Both  through  calm  and  stormy  weather, 

And  'tis  hard,  'tis  hard  to  part ; 
Yet  we  must ;  farewell  to  you  ; 
Answer,  on*e  and  all.  Adieu. 

*Tis  not  darkness  gathering  round  me 
Which  withdraws  me  from  your  sight ; 

Walls  of  flesh  no  more  can  bound  me  ; 
But,  translated  into  light, 

Like  the  lark  on  mounting  wing. 

Though  unseen,  you  hear  me  sing. 

Heaven's  broad  day  hath  o'er  me  broken, 

Far  beyond  earth's  span  of  sky ; 
I  am  dead ;  nay,  by  this  token 

Know  that  I  have  ceased  to  die. 
Would  you  solve  the  mystery  ? 
Come  up  hither, — come  and  see  ! 


5IO  HEAVEN   IN    SONG. 


MY  SPIRIT  PINES  FOR  HOME. 


Anonymous. 


THROUGHOUT  the  changing  scenes  of  earth 
I  oft  in  sorrow  roam ; 
And  though  all  things  are  beautiful, 
My  spirit  pines  for  home. 

*Tis  true  the  merry,  happy  birds, 

Pour  forth  their  notes  of  glee, 
But,  oh  !  my  aching  bosom  longs 

For  heavenly  harmony. 

The  summer  flowers  do  bud  and  bloom, 

Then  quickly  fade  away ; 
But  in  my  Father's  gardens  grow 

Flowers  that  ne'er  decay. 

Those  flowers  so  fair  and  beautiful, 

Are  far  too  pure  for  earth  ; 
They  only  shed  their  sweet  perfume 

In  their  best  place  of  birth. 

Where  is  that  blest  and  hallowed  spot, 

Where  reigns  eternal  love  ? 
It  is  beyond  the  sunny  skies, 

In  Heaven's  high  court  above. 

Then  wonder  not  that  I  throughout 

This  world  all  pensive  roam, 
For  my  sad  spirit  longs  to  be 

Within  my  Father's  home. 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN. 


All  the  days   of   my   appointed  time   will   I   wait,   till   my    change    come. — 
Job  14  ••  14- 

We  ourselves  groan  within  ourselves,  waiting  for  the  adoption,  to  wit,  the 
redemption  of  our  body. — Rom.  8  :  23. 

But  if  we  hope  for  that  we  see  not,  then  do  we  with  patience  -wait  for  it. — 
Rom.  8  :  25. 

Looking  for  that  blessed  hope,  and  the  glorious  appearing  of  the  great  God  and 
our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ- — Titus  2  :  13. 


WAITING  FOR  HEAVEN. 


LOOK  UP  AND   HOPE  ON. 


Anonymous. 


"  A    LITTLE  while  !  "  so  spake  our  gracious  Lord 
-^jL  To  the  sad  band  around  that  sacred  board, 
Where  His  long-burdened  heart 
Already  felt  the  smart 
Of  His  own  Father's  sin-avenging  sword. 

Take  thou  the  message,  weeping,  weary  one  ! 

Are  not  all  things  around  thee  hastening  on  ? 
Thy  Father's  hand  ordains 
All  these,  thy  griefs  and  pains  ; 

*'  A  little  while,"  they,  too,  are  passed  and  gone. 

Have  all  the  lights  of  love  quite  died  away  ? 

Does  the  last  star  withdraw  its  cheering  ray? 
Till  the  long  night  wears  past, 
Weeping  and  prayer  must  last, 

But  joy  approaches  with  the  dawning  day. 

*'  A  little  while" — the  fetters  hold  no  more — 
The  spirit  long  enthralled  is  free  to  soar, 

And  take  its  joyous  flight. 

On  radiant  wings  of  light. 
To  the  blest  mansions  of  the  heavenly  shore. 
'i3 


514  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

There  ends  the  longings  of  the  weary  breast  ; 

The  good  sought  after  here  is  there  possessed. 
Ride  o'er  the  stormy  sea, 
Poor  bark !     Soon  shalt  thou  be 

In  the  cahn  haven  of  eternal  rest. 

*'  A  little  while,"  look  upward  and  hope  on ! 
Soon  shall  the  troubled  dreams  of  night  be  gone, 

The  shadows  pass  away 

Before  the  abiding  day — 
The  Saviour  comes  to  save  and  bless  His  own ! 


I  STAND  UPON  THE  RIVER'S  VERGE. 


From  the  New  York  Observer. 


I  STAND  upon  the  river's  verge, 
Its  waves  break  at  my  feet  : 
And  can  the  roar  of  this  dark  surge 

Sound  in  my  ears  so  sweet  ? 
Higher  and  higher  swells  its  wave, 

Nearer  the  billows  come  ! 
And  can  a  dark  and  lonely  grave 
Outweigh  a  long-loved  home  ? 

Tis  not  alone  the  billow's  roar 

That  falls  upon  my  ear  ; 
But  music  from  yon  far-off  shore 

Is  wafted  sweet  and  clear  ; 


WAITING  FOR   HEAVEN.  515 

For  angel  harps  are  tuned  to  cheer 

My  faltering  human  faith, 
And  angel  tongues  are  chanting  there 

Triumphal  hope  in  death. 

The  everlasting  hills  arise, 

Bright  in  immortal  bloom  ; 
The  radiance  of  those  sunny  skies 

Illumines  e'en  the  tomb  ; 
And  glorious  on  those  hills  of  light 

I  see  my  own  abode, 
E'en  now  its  turrets  are  in  sight— 

The  city  of  our  God  ! 

Welcome,  the  waves  that  bear  me  o'er, 

Though  dark  and  cold  they  be ! 
To  gain  my  home  on  yonder  shore 

I'll  brave  them  joyously  ; 
The  snowy,  blood-washed  robe  I'll  wear, 

The  palm  of  victory  ! 
Welcome  the  waves  that  waft  me  there, 

Though  dark  and  cold  they  be ! 


THE  ROAD  IS  SO  LONESOME  BETWEEN. 


May  Riley  Smith. 


WHEN  the  crickets  chirp  in  the  evening. 
And  the  stars  flash  out  in  the  sky, 
I  sit  in  my  lonely  doorway 

And  watch  the  children  go  by. 


5l6  HEAVEN   IN    SONG. 

I  look  at  their  fresh  young  faces, 
And  hark  to  each  merry  word, 

For  to  me,  a  child's  own  language 
Is  the  sweetest  e'er  was  heard. 

And  so,  I  sit  in  my  doorway 

In  the  hour  that  I  love  the  best, 
And  think  as  I  see  them  passing, 

My  child  will  come  with  the  rest : 
Think,  when  I  hear  the  clicking 

Of  the  little  garden  gate. 
My  darling's  hand  is  upon  it — 

O,  why  has  she  come  so  late  ? 

But  the  days  have  been  slowly  weaving 

Their  warp  of  toil  in  my  life  ; 
The  weeks  have  rolled  on  me  their  burden 

Of  waiting  and  patience  and  strife; 
The  flowers  that  came  with  the  summer 

Have  finished  their  errand  so  sweet. 
And  autumn  is  drooping  her  harvests 

Mellow  and  ripe  at  my  feet. 

And  yet  my  little  girl  comes  not, 

And  I  think  she  has  missed  her  way, 
And  strayed  from  this  cold,  dark  country 

To  one  of  perpetual  day. 
I  think  that  the  angels  have  found  her. 

And,  loving  her  better  than  we. 
Have  begged  the  Good  Father  to  keep  her 

Right  on,  through  eternity. 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN.  517 

Perhaps.     But  I  long  to  enfold  her, 

To  tangle  my  hand  in  her  hair, 
To  feast  my  starved  mouth  on  her  kisses, 

To  hear  her  light  foot  on  the  stair. 
I  am  but  a  poor,  selfish  mother, 

And  mother-hearts  starve,  though  they  know 
Their  children  are  drinking  the  nectar 

From  lilies  in  heaven  that  blow. 

Some  day  I  am  sure  I  shall  find  her, — 

But  the  road  is  so  lonesome  between, 
My  spirit  grows  sick  and  impatient 

For  a  glimpse  of  the  pastures  so  green ; 
Till  then  I  shall  sit  in  the  doorway. 

In  the  hour  that  my  heart  loves  best, 
And  think,  when  the  children  pass  homeward, 

My  child  will  come  with  the  rest. 


THE  LAND  O'  THE  LEAL. 


Lady   Nairne. 


I'M  wearin'  awa',  Jean, 
Like  sna' — wraiths  in  tha*,  Jean, 
I'm  wearin'  awa' 

To  the  Land  o'  the  Leal. 
There's  nae  sorrow  there,  Jean, 
There's  nither  could,  nair  care,  Jean, 
The  days  are  a'  fair 

r  the  Land  o'  the  Leal. 


5l8  HEAVEN    IN    SONG. 

O,  dry  your  glistening  e'e,  Jean, 
My  soul  langs  to  be  free,  Jean, 
And  angels  beckon  me 

To  the  Land  o'  the  Leal. 
Ye  have  been  gude  an'  true,  Jean, 
Your  task's  near  ended  noo,  Jean, 
And  I'll  welcome  you 

To  the  Land  o'  the  Leal. 

Our  bonny  bairn's  there,  Jean, 
She  was  baith  gude  and  fair,  Jean, 
And  we  grudged  her  sair 

To  the  Land  o'  the  Leal ! 
But  sorrow's  sel'  wears  past,  Jean, 
And  joys  are  coming  fast,  Jean, 
The  joy  that's  aye  to  last, 

I'  the  Land  o'  the  Leal. 

Our  friends  are  a'  gane,  Jean, 
We've  long  been  left  alane,  Jean, 
We'll  a'  meet  again 

r  the  Land  o'  the  Leal. 
Then  fare  thee  weel,  my  ain  Jean, 
This  warld's  cares  are  vain,  Jean, 
We  '11  meet,  an'  a'  11  be  plain, 

r  the  Land  o'  the  Leal ! 


WAITING  FOR   HEAVEN.  519 


BEYOND  THE  SMILING  AND  THE  WEEPING. 


HORATIUS    BONAR. 


BEYOND  the  smiling  and  the  weeping, 
I  shall  be  soon : 
Beyond  the  waking  and  the  sleeping, 
Beyond  the  sowing  and  the  reaping, 
I  shall  be  soon. 
Love,  rest,  and  home ! 
Sweet  home  ! 
Lord,  tarry  not,  but  come. 

Beyond  the  blooming  and  the  fading, 

I  shall  be  soon  : 
Beyond  the  shining  and  the  shading. 
Beyond  the  hoping  and  the  dreading, 
I  shall  be  soon. 
Love,  rest,  and  home ! 
Sweet  home  ! 
Lord,  tarry  not,  but  come. 

Beyond  the  rising  and  the  setting, 

I  shall  be  soon  ; 
Beyond  the  calming  and  the  fretting, 
Beyond  remembering  and  forgetting, 
I  shall  be  soon. 
Love,  rest,  and  home!. 
Sweet  home  ! 
Lord,  tarry  not,  but  come  ! 


520  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Beyond  the  parting  and  the  meeting, 

I  shall  be  soon  : 
Beyond  the  farewell  and  the  greeting. 
Beyond  the  pulse's  fever  beating, 
I  shall  be  soon. 
Love,  rest,  and  home  ! 
Sweet  home  ! 
Lord,  tarry  not,  but  come  ! 

Beyond  the  frost-chain  and  the  fever, 

I  shall  be  soon: 
Beyond  the  rock-waste  and  the  river, 
Beyond  the  ever  and  the  never, 
I  shall  be  soon. 
Love,  rest,  and  home  ! 
Sweet-home  ! 
Lord,  tarry  not,  but  come. 


WHERE  DOST  THOU  LIE,  O  LAND  OF  PEACE, 


Anonymous. 


WHERE  dost  thou  lie,  O  Land  of  Peace? 
Across  what  foaming  ocean's  swell  ? 
My  heart,  with  sighs  that  never  cease. 

Yearns  in  thy  palaces  to  dwell ; 
But  yet,  O  fair  and  distant  land, 
I  cannot  see  thy  shining  strand. ' 


WAITING   FOR    HEAVEN.  521 

Sometimes  when  morning's  iris  light 

Is  flaming  in  the  eastern  sky, 
I  say,  Beneath  that  rose  and  white 

The  blessed  realm  must  surely  lie  ! 
But  morning's  brow  by  noon  is  fanned, 
And  thou  art  still  the  distant  land. 

And  oft  when  sunset's  burnished  gold 
Falls  warm  upon  the  water's  breast, 

I  say,  Beyond  that  glorious  fold 

Must  gleam  the  islands  of  the  blest ! 

But  stars  steal  out,  a  silent  band, 

And  thou  art  still  the  distant  land. 

And  then  I  dream — a  blissful  dream 

That  I  have  gained  thy  tranquil  bowers, 

And  lo  !  life's  sorrows  only  seem 

Winds  that  a  moment  bent  its  flowers — 

I  wake,  I  clasp  no  angel  hand. 

And  thou  art  still  the  distant  land. 

I  watch,  I  long,  I  faint  for  thee  ! 

Canst  thou  not  open  wide  the  door. 
That  I  may  enter  in  and  be 

Part  of  thy  peace  forevermore  ? 
O  send  that  sleep  so  sweet,  so  grand, 
And  thou  shalt  be  no  distant  land ! 


522  HFAVEN    IN   SONG. 


I'M  KNEELING  AT  THE  THRESHOLD. 


From  the  Sunday  Magazine. 


I'M  kneeling  at  the  threshold,  weary,  faint  and  sore: 
Waiting  for  the  dawning,  for  the  opening  of  the 
door  ; 
Waiting  till  the  Master  shall  bid  me  rise  and  come 
To  the  glory  of  His  presence,  to  the  gladness  of  His 
home. 

A  weary  path  IVe  travelled,  'mid  darkness,  storm  and 

strife  ; 
Bearing  many  a  burden,  struggling  for  my  life : 
But  now   the  morn  is  breaking,  my  toil  will  soon  be 

o'er, 
I'm  kneeling  at  the  threshold,  my  hand  is  on  the  door. 

Methinks    I    hear   the   voices  of  the  blessed  as  they 

stand. 
Singing  in  the  sunshine  of  the  sinless  land  ; 
O!  would  that  I  were  with  them,  amid  their  shining 

throng, 
Mingling  in  their  worship,  joining  in  their  song. 

The  friends  that  started  with  me  have  entered  long 

ago; 
One  by  one  they  left  me  struggling  with  the  foe  ; 
Their  pilgrimage  was    shorter,    their  triumph    sooner 

won  ; 
How  lovinj:^Iy  they'll  hail  me  when  my  toil  is  done ! 


WAITING   FOR    HEAVEN.  523 

With  them  the  blessed  angels  that  know  no  grief  nor 

sin, 
I  see  them  by  the  portals,  prepared  to  let  me  in. 
O  Lord,  I  wait  Thy  pleasure,  Thy  time  and  way  are 

best ; 
But  I  am  wasted,  worn  and  wjsary ;  O,  Father,  bid  me 

rest ! 


THE  LAND  WHERE  MY  NESTLINGS  BE. 


Jean  Ingelow. 


A  SONG  of  a  boat : 
There  was  once  a  boat  on  a  billow, 
Lightly  she  rocked  to  her  port  remote, 
And  the  foam  was  white  in  her  wake  hke  snow, 
And  her  frail  mast  bowed  when  the  breeze  would  blow, 
And  bent  like  wand  of  willow. 

I  shaded  mine  eyes  one  day  when  a  boat 

Went  courtesying  over  a  billow  ; 
I  marked  her  course,  till  a  dancing  mote. 
She  faded  out  on  the  moonlit  foam, 
And  I  stayed  behind,  in  the  dear,  loved  home  : 
And  my  thoughts  all  day  were  about  the  boat. 
And  my  dceam  upon  a  pillow. 

I  pray  you  hear  my  song  of  a  boat, 

For  it  is  but  short ; 
My  boat,  you  shall  find  nothing  fairer  afloat, 

In  river  or  port. 


524  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Long  I  looked  out  for  the  lad  she  bore, 
On  the  open,  desolate  sea, 

And  I  think  he  sailed  to  the  heavenly  shore, 
For  he  came  not  back  to  me ! 

Ah,  me  ! 

A  song  of  a  nest : 

There  was  once  a  nest  in  a  hollow, 
Down  in  the  mosses  and  knot-grass  pressed. 
Soft  and  warm,  and  full  to  the  brim  ; 
Vetches  leaned  over  it  purple  and  dim. 
With  buttercup  buds  to  follow. 


I  pray  you  hear  my  song  of  a  nest. 

For  it  is  not  long  ; 
You  shall  never  light,  in  a  summer  quest 

The  bushes  among — 
Shall  never  light  on  a  prouder  sitter, 

A  fairer  nestful,  nor  ever  know 
A  softer  sound  than  their  tender  twitter, 

That  wind-like  did  come  and  go. 

I  had  a  nestful  once  of  my  own, 

Ah,  happy,  happy,  I  ! 
Right  dearly  I  loved  them  :  but  when  they  were  grown 

They  spread  out  their  wings  to  fly — 
O,  one  after  one  they  flew  away, 

Far  up  to  the  heavenly  blue, 
To  the  better  country,  the  upper  day. 

And — I  wish  I  was  going  too. 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN.  525 

1  pray  you,  what  is  the  nest  to  me — 

My  empty  nest  ? 
And  what  is  the  shore,  where  I  stood  to  see 

My  boat  sail  down  to  the  west  ? 
Can  I  call  that  home  where  I  anchor  yet, 

Though  my  good  man  has  sailed  ? 
Can  I  call  that  home  where  my  nest  was  set. 

Now  all  its  hopes  have  failed  ? 
Nay,  but  the  port  where  my  sailor  went, 

And  the  land  where  my  nestlings  be  : 
There  is  the  home  where  my  thoughts  are  sent — 

The  only  home  for  me — 

Ah,  me ! 


AS   HOME    WE    WAFT    FROM    OUR    ALIEN 
SHORE. 


Bishop  Coxe. 


SO,  in  our  simple  creed, 
We  drop  this  frail  mortality  we  wear, 
And  laud  to  Him  who  for  our  sakes  did  bleed, 

And  on  His  cross  our  bitter  griefs  did  bear — 

We  know  our  ransomed  nature,  certain  heir 
Of  deathless  being  from  its  dying  seed. 

They  who  nurse  hopes,  live  every  day  an  age, 
And  strive  more  fleet  to  live,  by  living  well : 

And  so  we  hasten  on  our  pilgrimage. 
Plucking  earth's  flowers,  but  fain  in  heaven  to  dwell. 

Life,  in  our  ear,  doth  mean  eternity ; 


526  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

And  Time,  our  staff,  but  speeds  us  on  our  way, 

While  all  around,  poor  voyagers  we  see, 
Who  bear  it,  but  to  chronicle  each  day. 

And  notch  the  hurrying  hours  of  destiny 
In  fearful  units,  numbering  for  dismay 

The  lavished  seeds  of  immortality. 
But,  O,  our  souls  take  no  account  of  time, 
For  we  are  gazing  into  worlds  sublime ; 

Our  spirits  are  like  song-birds,  nursed  to  light 
In  climates  far  too  rude. 
That,  by  a  heavenly  instinct,  stretch  their  flight 

To  skies  where  such  bright  plumes    were  made  to 
brood. 
We  know  our  kindred  there. 
In  genial  warmth,  their  golden  plumage  wear, 
And  sing  their  native  notes  forevermore ! 
We  yearn  for  purer  air. 
And  dream  the  music  we  were  made  to  share, 
As  home  we  waft  us,  from  our  alien  shore. 


LORD,  THE  WAVES   ARE    BREAKING    O'ER 

ME. 


From  Hymns  of  the  Church  Militant. 


LORD,  the  waves  are  breaking  o'er  me  and  around; 
Oft    of    coming    tempests    I    hear   the    moaning 
sound  ; 
Here,  there  is  no  safety,  rocks  on  either  hand — 
'Tis  a  foreign  roadstead,  a  strange  and  dreary  land  : 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN.  52/ 

Wherefore  should  I  Hnger  ?  others,  gone  before 

Long  since,  safe  are  landed  on  a  calm    and    friendly 

shore. 
Now,  the  sailing  orders,  in  mercy,  Lord,  bestow, 
Loose  the  cable,  let  me  go  ! 

Lord,  the  night  is  closing  'round  my  feeble  bark, 
How  shall  I  encounter  its  watches  long  and  dark? 
Sorely  worn  and  shattered,  by  many  a  billow  past, 
Can  I  stand  another  rude  and  stormy  blast  ? 
Oh,  the  promised  haven  I  never  may  attain, 
Sinking  and  forgotten,  amid  the  lonely  main. 
Enemies  around  me,  gloomy  depths  below. 
Loose  the  cable,  let  me  go  ! 

Lord,  I  would  be  near  Thee,  with  Thee,  where  Thou 

art. 
Thine  own  word  hath  said,  "  'Tis  better  to  depart." 
There  to  serve  Thee  better,  there  to  love  Thee  more, 
With  Thy  ransomed  people,  to  worship  and  adore. 
Ever  to  Thy  presence.  Thou  dost  call  Thine  own — 
Why  am  I  remainirig,  helpless  and  alone? 
Oh,  to  see  Thy  glory.  Thy  wondrous  love  to  know ! 
Loose  the  cable,  let  me  go  ! 

Lord,  the  lights  are  glanqing  from  the  distant  shore, 
Where  no  billows  threaten,  where  no  tempests  roar. 
Long-beloved  voices,  calling  me,  I  hear! 
Oh,  how  sweet  the  summons  falls  upon  my  ear ! 
Here,  are  foes  and  strangers,  faithless  hearts  and  cold, 
There,  is  fond  affection,  fondly  proved  of  old  ! 
Let  me  haste  to  join  them ;  may  it  not  be  so? 
Loose  the  cable,  let  me  q-q  ! 


528  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Hark!  the  solemn  answer!  hark  the  promise  sure, 

"  Blessed  are  those  servants  who  to  the  end  endure  !'* 

Yet  a  little  longer,  hope  and  tarry  on, 

Yet  a  little  longer,  weak  and  weary  one ! 

More  to  perfect  patience,  to  grow  in  faith  and  love. 

More   thy  strength   and   wisdom,  and   faithfulness  to 

prove  ; 
Then,  the  sailing  orders  thy  Captain  shall  bestow, 
Loose  the  cable — let  thee  go  ! 


DROPPING  DOWN  THE  RIVER. 


HORATIUS     BONAR. 


DROPPING  down  the  troubled  river, 
To  the  tranquil,  tranquil  shore  ; 
Dropping  down  the  misty  river, 
Time's  willow-shaded  river, 

To  the  spring-embosomed  shore ; 
Where  the  sweet  light  shineth  ever, 
And  the  sun  goes  down  no  more  ; 
O  wondrous,  wondrous  shore  ! 

Dropping  down  the  winding  river. 

To  the  wide  and  welcome  sea  ; 
Dropping  down  the  narrow  river, 
Man's  weary,  crooked  river, 

To  the  blue  and  star-lit  sea ; 
Where  no  tempest  wrecketh  ever. 

Where  the  sky  is  fair  and  free  ; 

O  joyous,  joyous  sea  ! 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN.  529 

Dropping  down  the  noisy  river, 

To  our  peaceful,  peaceful  home  ; 
Dropping  down  the  turbid  river, 
Earth's  bustling,  crowded  river, 

To  our  gentle,  gentle  home  : 
Where  the  rough  sea  riseth  never. 

And  the  vexings  cannot  come, 

O,  loved  and  longed-for  home  ! 

Dropping  down  the  eddying  river. 

With  a  Helmsman  true  and  tried  ; 
Dropping  down  the  dangerous  river. 
Mortality's  dark,  threatening  river, 

With  a  sure  and  heavenly  Guide  ; 
Even  Him,  who  to  deliver 

My  soul  from  death  hath  died ; 

Oh  Helmsman,  true  and  tried  ! 

Dropping  down  the  rapid  river. 

To  the  dear  and  deathless  Land  ; 
Dropping  down  the  well-known  river, 
Life's  angry,  swollen  river, 

To  the  Resurrection-land  ; 
Where  the  living  live  forever. 

And  the  dead  have  joined  the  band, 

In  that  fair  and  blessed  land  ! 
34 


530  HEAVEN    IN    SONG. 


MY  FEET  ARE  WORN  AND  WEARY. 


S.  Roberts. 


"The  sufferings  of  this  present  time  are  not  worthy  to  be  compared  to  the  glory 
that  shall  be  revealed  in  us.'" 

MY  feet  are  worn  and  weary  with  the  march 
Over  rough  roads  and  up  the  steep  hill-side  ; 
Oh,  city  of  our  God,  I  fain  would  see 

Thy  pastures  green,  where  peaceful  waters  glide. 

My  hands  are  weary,  laboring,  toiling  on, 

Day  after  day,  for  perishable  meat  ; 
Oh,  city  of  our  God,  I  fain  would  rest ; 

I  sigh  to  gain  thy  glorious  mercy-seat. 

My  garments,  travel-worn  and  stained  with  dust, 
Oft  rent  by  briars  and  thorns  that  crowd  my  way, 

Would  fain  be  made,  Oh  Lord,  my  righteousness, 
Spotless  and  white  in  heaven's  unclouded  ray. 

My  eyes  are  weary  looking  at  the  sin, 

Impiety,  and  scorn  upon  the  earth  ; 
Oh,  city  of  our  God,  within  thy  walls, 

All,  all  are  clothed  upon  with  the  new  birth. 

My  heart  is  weary  of  its  own  deep  sin — 

Sinning,  repenting,  sinning  still  alway ; 
When  shall  my  soul  Thy  glorious  presence  feel. 

And  find  its  guilt,  dear  Saviour,  washed  away? 


WAITING   FOR    HEAVEN.  531 

Patience,  poor  soul ;  the  Saviour's  feet  were  worn  ; 

The  Saviour's  heart  and  hands  were  weary  too  ; 
His  garments  stained  and  travel-worn  and  old, 

His  sacred  eyes  blinded  with  tears  for  you. 

Love  thou  the  path  of  sorrow  that  He  trod  ; 

Toil  on,  and  wait  in  patience  for  thy  rest  ; 
Oh,  city  of  our  God,  we  soon  shall  see 

Thy  glorious  walls,  home  of  the  loved  and  blest. 


MY  AIN  COUNTREE. 


Miss  M.  A.  Lee, 


I'M  far  frae  my  hame,  an'  I'm  weary  oftenwhiles 
For  the  langed-for  hame-bringing,  an'  my  Father's 
welcome  smiles ; 
I'll  ne'er  be  fu'  content  until  my  een  do  see 
The  gowden  gates  o'  heaven,  an'  my  ain  countree. 

The  earth  is  flecked  wi'  flowers,  mony-tinted,  fresh  and 

gay, 
The  birdies  warble  blithely,  for  my  Father  made  them 

sae  ; 
But  these  sights  an'  these  soun's  will  as  naething  be  to 

me 
When  I  hear  the  angels  singing  in  my  ain  countree. 

I've  His  gude  word    o'   promise,   that  some  gladsome 

day  the  King 
To  His  ain  royal  palace  His  banished  hame  will  bring  ; 
Wi'  een  an'  wi'  hearts  running  owre  we  shall  see 
The  King  in  His  beauty,  an'  our  ain  countree. 


532  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

My  sins  hae  been  mony,  an'  my  sorrows  hae  been  sair, 
But   there  they'll   never  vex   me   nor  be  remembered 

mair ; 
His  bluid  hath   made  me  white,   His  hand  shall  dry 

mine  ee, 
When  He  brings  me  hame  at  last  to  my  ain  countree. 

Like  a  bairn  to  its  mither,  a  wee  birdie  to  its  rtest, 
I  wad  fain  be  ganging  noo  unto  my  Saviour's  breast ; 
For  He  gathers  in  his  bosom  witless,  worthless  lambs 

like  me, 
An'  carries  them  Himsel'  to  His  ain  countree. 

He's  faithfu'  that  hath  promised ;  He'll  surely  come 

again  ; 
He'll  keep  His  tryst  wi'  me,  at  what  hour  I  dinna  ken ; 
But  He  bids  me  still  to  watch,  an'  ready  aye  to  be, 
To  gang  at  any  moment  to  my  ain  countree. 

So  I'm  watching  aye,  an'  singing  o'  my  hame  as  I  wait 
For  the  soun'ing  o'   His  footfa'  this  side  the  gowden 

gate, 
God  gie  His  grace  to  ilk  ane  wha  listens  noo  to  me, 
That  we  a'  may  gang  in  gladness  to  our  ain  countree. 


WAITING  FOR   HEAVEN.  533 


IN  THE  DISTANCE  LOOMS  BEFORE  ME. 


Edwin  Griff. 


SITTING  lonely,  dusky  shadows, 
Deep'ning  as  the  moments  flee, 
Stretch  their  dreamy  lengths  before  me, 
Like  weird  phantoms  on  the  lea. 

Sadly,  stilly  in  the  silence, 

Leaves  are  dropping  Hke  soft  rain ; 

Autumn's  gorgeous,  crimson  leaflets, 
Carpeting  the  earth  again. 

In  the  distance,  looms  before  me 
Waters,  in  their  glist'ning  flow : 

Onward  still,  and  on  forever. 

Like  the  years  that  come  and  go. 

On  the  river's  moonlit  bosom 

Barks  with  white  sails  fleck  the  tide: 

Seeming  like  pure  spirits  watching 
O'er  the  wavelets  as  they  glide. 

Twilight  passes,  and  resplendent 
Stars  now  gem  the  azure  pure ; 

Smiling  now  in  sky  and  water, 

Answering  stars  shine  bright  and  clear. 


534  HEAVEN    IN    SONG. 

Up  the  river  streams  the  glory 

From  earth's  answering  hosts  to-night ; 

On  the  waters  far  off  flowing — 
In  the  land  of  silver  light. 

Waiting  lonely  in  our  Autumn 
By  life's  sobbing,  sighing  stream, 

Till  the  boatman's  oar  shall  echo 
Through  the  starlit  air  of  e'en, 

May  we  glide  safe  up  the  river 

Of  Eternity  alone — 
Haloed  with  the  viewless  glory 

Streaming  from  the  Great  White  Throne. 


FOOTSTEPS  ON  THE  OTHER  SIDE. 

WEARY  and  worn,  at  close  of  day, 
Fainting  and  dying  by  the, way, 
A  wounded  Pilgrim  sleeping  lay : 
While  Silence,  stealing  to  his  side, 
And  winding  her  soft  arms  around, 
Sighed  in  her  dreams  and  pressed  his  wound. 
And  so,  he,  waking,  caught  a  sound — 
A  footstep  on  the  other  side. 

How  many  weary  pilgrims  lie, 
And  watching  wait,  and  waiting  sigh 
For  steps  that  never  wander  nigh, 
But  pass  upon  the  other  side  : 


WAITING  FOR   HEAVEN.  535 

For  steps  that  trampled  heart  and  brain, 
And  made  their  lives  a  lingering  pain, 
And  passed,  and  never  came  again — 
Lost  footsteps  on  the  other  side. 

How  many  walk  with  bleeding  feet, 

Seeking  the  loved  and  lost  to  meet, 

While  the  dear  visions  flit  and  fleet, 

And  vanish  on  the  other  side ! 

While  life's  fresh  Love  and  youth's  sweet  Trust, 

Those  Eden-blooms  in  earthly  dust, 

Lie  bruised  and  broken,  stained  and  crushed, 

*Neath  footsteps  on  the  other  side. 

And  so  we  watch,  and  watching  sigh. 
While  youth,  and  faith,  and  hope  go  by ; 
While  life,  and  love,  and  gladness  die 
With  footsteps  on  the  other  side. 
And  so  we  wait  with  ear  and  eye 
For  one  dear  echo  floating  by — 
A  grief,  a  woe,  a  wandering  sigh, 
A  footstep  on  the  other  side. 

O  heavy  hearts,  that  ache  and  break ! 
O  heavy  eyes,  that  droop  and  sleep  ! 
Why  must  ye  ever  wake  and  weep 
At  footsteps  on  the  other  side  ? 
Why  must  ye  ever  lie  forlorn, 
And  ache,  and  wake,  and  weep  so  long 
Because  one  footstep  has  gone  wrong, 
And  passed  upon  the  other  side  7 


536  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


WE  HAVE  NO  HOME  BUT  HEAVEN, 

WE  have  no  home  but  heaven  ; 
A  pilgrim's  garb  we  wear ; 
Our  path  is  marked  by  changes, 

And  strewed  with  many  a  care  ; 
Surrounded  with  temptations ; 

By  various  ills  oppressed  ; 
Each  passing  day  proclaims  aloud 
That  this  is  not  our  rest. 

We  have  no  home  but  heaven  ; — 

Then  wherefore  seek  one  here  ? 
Why  murmur  at  privation, 

Or  grieve  when  foes  appear  ? 
It  is  but  for  a  season 

That  we  as  strangers  roam. 
And  travellers  must  not  expect 

The  comforts  of  a  home. 

We  have  no  home  but  heaven  ; 

We  want  no  home  beside ; 
O  God,  our  Friend  and  Father, 

Our  footsteps  thither  guide  ; 
Unfold  to  us  its  glory. 

Prepare  us  to  employ 
Our  soul,  our  life,  our  strength,  our  all, 

In  that  blest  world  of  joy. 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN.  53/ 

We  have  no  home  but  heaven  ; — 

How  cheering  is  the  thought ! 
How  bright  the  expectations 

Which  God's  own  word  has  taught ; 
With  eager  hearts  we  hasten 

The  promised  bHss  to  share ; 
We  have  no  home  but  heaven  ; — 

O,  when  shall  we  be  there  ? 


NOT  NOW,  MY  CHILD. 


Dublin  Tract  Repository. 


NOT  now,  my  child — a  little  more  rough  tossing, 
A  little  longer  on  the  billow's  foam, 
A  few  more  journeyings  in  the  desert  darkness. 
And  then  the  sunshine  of  thy  Father's  home  ! 

Not  now,  for  I  have  wanderers  in  the  distance, 
And  thou  must  call  them  in  with  patient  love; 

Not  now,  for  I  have  sheep  upon  the  mountains. 
And  thou  must  follow  them  where'er  they  rove. 

Not  now,  for  I  have  loved  ones  sad  and  weary ; 

Wilt  thou  not  cheer  them  with  a  kindly  smile? 
Sick  ones  who  need  thee  in  their  lonely  sorrow  ; 

Wilt  thou  not  tend  them  yet  a  little  while? 

Not  now,  for  wounded  hearts  are  sorely  bleeding, 
And  thou  must  teach  those  widowed  hearts  to  sing; 

Not  now,  for  orphan  tears  are  thickly  falling  ; 

They  must  be  gathered  'neath  some  sheltering  wing. 


538  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

Not  now,  for  many  a  hungry  one  is  pining ; 

Thy  wilUng  hand  must  be  outstretched  and  free  ; 
Thy  Father  hears  the  mighty  cry  of  anguish, 

And  gives  His  answering  messages  to  thee. 

Not  now,  for  dungeon  walls  look  stern  and  gloomy, 
And  prisoners'  sighs  sound  strangely  on  the  breeze — 

Man's  prisoners,  but  thy  Saviour's  noble  freemen — 
Hast  thou  no  ministry  of  love  for  these  ? 

Not  now,  for  hell's  eternal  gulf  is  yawning, 
And  souls  are  perishing  in  helpless  sin  ; 

Jerusalem's  bright  gates  are  standing  open — 
Go  to  the  banished  ones  and  fetch  them  in  ! 

Go  with  the  name  of  Jesus  to  the  dying. 

And  speak  that  Name  in  all  its  living  power ; 

Why  should  thy  faltering  heart  grow  chill  and  weary  ? 
Canst  thou  not  watch  with  Me  one  little  hour  ? 

One  little  hour!  and  then  the  glorious  crowning; 

The  golden  harp-strings  and  the  victor's  palm  ; 
One  little  hour  !  and  then  the  Hallelujah  ! 

Eternity's  long,  deep  thanksgiving  psalm  ! 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN.  539 


A  LITTLE  WHILE  TO  TOIL  ALONG. 


From  the  Banner  of  the  Covenant- 


A     LITTLE  while  to  toil  along 
^t\.  This  weary  winding  way, 
And  we  shall  join  the  ransomed  throng, 
And  we  shall  sing  love's  choral  song. 
In  yonder  land  of  day. 

A  little  while,  for  doubt  and  gloom, 

And  feeble  trust  in  God, 
And  faith  shall  spread  her  eagle  plume, 
The  soul  her  palm  and  crown  assume, 

Forever  with  the  Lord. 

A  little  while  to  pour  our  love, 

On  fading  forms  of  clay, 
To  weep  with  tears  of  bitter  grief,  ' 
With  anguish  that  hath  no  relief. 

And  death  shall  pass  away. 

A  little  while  to  scatter  smiles, 

Like  sunshine  on  our  way, 
With  willing  heart  and  kindly  hand. 
To  help  each  trembHng  outcast  band, 

To  hope,  to  watch  and  pray. 


540  HEAVEN   IN    SONG. 

A  little  while  to  do  the  work 

Our  Master's  hand  hath  given, 

Fast  fleet  away  the  hours  of  grace, 

Night  falls  upon  our  dwelling  place, 

Short  space  to  work  for  heaven. 

A  little  while  to  face  the  storm, 

And  breast  the  angry  billow, 
And  Christ  shall  whisper,  "  Peace,  be  still,' 
And  ransomed  by  our  Lord's  sweet  will. 
His  breast  shall  be  our  pillow. 

A  little  while  !     Take  heed,  my  soul. 
These  words  of  love  and  warning  : 
That  ere  thou  reach  the  appointed  goal. 
Thou  go  to  Christ,  and  be  made  whole. 
And  enter  heaven's  bright  morning. 


WHY   SHOULD  I  LINGER  HERE, 


J.  Birch. 


HAIL  !  happy  day, 
When  I  shall  soar  away, 
And  leave  all  earthly  care  behind, 
Too  grov'lling  for  the  mind ; 
When  with  untiring  gaze. 
My  eye  shall  rest  in  sweet  delight, 
On  that  high  throne  divinely  bright. 
Where  uncreated  glories  blaze  ! 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN.  54I 

While  standing  on  this  mortal  shore, 

That  vision  casts  a  shadow  o'er 
Those  golden  joys,  and  friendships  dear. 

My  heart  preferr'd  before  ; 
Why,  Saviour,  should  I  linger  here, 

My  absence  to  deplore. 
From  that  celestial  blissful  place, 
Where  the  rich  beauties  of  thy  face 

Shall  be  concealed  no  more  ! 


ONE  DAY  NEARER  HOME. 


Anonymous. 


'  Heaven  is  my  Fatherland, 
Heaven  is  my  home." 


O'ER  the  hills  the  sun  is  setting, 
And  the  eve  is  drawing  on  ; 
Slowly  drops  the  gentle  twilight. 

For  another  day  is  gone  ; 
Gone  for  aye — its  race  is  over, 

Soon  the  darker  shades  will  come  ; 
Still,  'tis  sweet  to  know  at  even. 
We  are  one  day  nearer  home. 

*'  One  day  nearer,"  sings  the  mariner. 
As  he  glides  the  waters  o'er, 

While  the  light  is  softly  dying 
On  his  distant  native  shore. 


54-  HEAVEN    IN    SONG. 

Thus  the  Christian  on  Hfe's  ocean, 
As  his  Hght  boat  cuts  the  foam, 

In  the  evening  cries  with  rapture — 
''  I  am  one  day  nearer  home." 

Worn  and  weary,  oft  the  pilgrim 

Hails  the  setting  of  the  sun  ; 
For  the  goal  is  one  day  nearer, 

And  his  journey  nearly  done. 
Thus  we  feel  when  o'er  life's  desert, 

Heart  and  sandal-sore  we  roam  ; 
As  the  twilight  gathers  o'er  us, 

We  are  one  day  nearer  home. 

Nearer  home !     Yes,  one  day  nearer 

To  our  Father's  house  on  high — 
To  the  green  fields  and  the  fountains 

Of  the  land  beyond  the  sky  : 
For  the  heavens  grow  brighter  o'er  us, 

And  the  lamps  hang  in  the  dome. 
And  our  tents  are  pitched  still  closer, 

For  we're  one  day  nearer  home. 


THE  PRELIBATION  OF  HEAVEN 


Charles  Wesley. 


HOW  happy  every  child  of  grace 
Who  knows  his  sins  forgiven  ; 
This  earth,  he  cries,  is  not  my  place, 
I  seek  my  place  in  Heaven  ; 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN.  543 

A  country  far  from  mortal  sight, — 
Yet  O  !  by  faith  I  see 
The  land  of  rest,  the  saints'  delight, 
The  heaven  prepared  for  me. 

A  stranger  in  the  world  below, 

I  calmly  sojourn  here ; 

Nor  can  its  happiness  or  woe. 

Provoke  my  hope  or  fear : 

Its  evils  in  a  moment  end, 

Its  joys  as  soon  are  past ; 

But  O  !  the  bliss  to  which  I  tend, 

Eternally  shall  last. 

To  that  Jerusalem  above 

With  singing  I  repair  ; 

While  in  the  flesh  my  hope  and  love, 

My  heart  and  soul  are  there : 

There  my  exalted  Saviour  stands 

My  merciful  High  Priest, 

And  still  extends  his  wounded  hands 

To  take  me  to  His  breast. 

What  is  there  here  to  court  my  stay. 
Or  hold  me  back  from  home, 
While  angels  beckon  me  away. 
And  Jesus  bids  me  come  ? 
Shall  I  regret  my  parted  friends 
Still  in  the  vale  confined  ? 
Nay,  but  whene'er  my  soul  ascends 
They  will  not  stay  behind. 


544  HEAVEN   IN    SONG. 

The  race  we  all  are  running  now, 

And  if  I  first  attain, 

They  too  their  willing  head  shall  bow, 

They  too  the  prize  shall  gain. 

Now  on  the  brink  of  death  we  stand, 

And  if  I  pass  before 

They  all  shall  soon  escape  to  land, 

And  hail  me  on  the  shore. 

Then  let  me  suddenly  remove. 
That  hidden  life  to  share  ; 
I  shall  not  lose  my  friends  above 
But  more  enjoy  them  there. 
There  we  in  Jesus'  praise  shall  join, 
His  boundless  love  proclaim, 
And  solemnize  in  songs  divine 
The  marriage  of  the  Lamb. 

Oh  what  a  blessed  hope  is  ours  ! 

While  here  on  earth  we  stay, 

We  more  than  taste  the  heavenly  powers 

And  antedate  that  day: 

We  feel  the  resurrection  near, 

Our  life  in  Christ  conceal'd, 

And  with  his  glorious  presence 

Our  earthen  vessels  fill'd. 

Oh  !  would  He  more  of  heaven  bestow, 

And  let  the  vessel  break, 

And  let  our  ransom'd  spirits  go 

To  grasp  the  God  we  seek. 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN.  545 

In  rapturous  awe  on  Him  to  gaze, 
Who  bought  the  sight  for  me, 
And  shout  and  wonder  at  His  grace, 
Through  all  eternity ! 


MY  GOD,  I  WAIT  FOR  THEE. 


Nathan  Colver. 


Daring  his  tedious  sickness,  in  a  night  of  unrest,  when  sleep  had  fled  his  pillow. 
Dr.  Colver,  of  Chicago,  sought  relief  by  writing  the  following  song  of  the  night. 

MY  God,  I  wait  for  Thee ; 
My  work  on  earth  seems  done  ; 
I  long  my  Fathers  face  to  see, 
Nor  less  Thine  only  Son. 

My  God,  I  wait  for  Thee ; 

My  time  of  toil  is  o'er  ; 
There  is  a  rest  remains  for  me 

On  Canaan's  happy  shore. 

My  God,  I  wait  for  Thee  ; 

O,  when  will  Jesus  come  ? 
A  mansion  is  prepared  for  me  ; 

Haste,  Lord,  and  take  me  home. 

My  God,  I  wait  for  Thee, 

Nor  murmur  at  my  pains  ; 
But  long  with  Christ  to  soar  away, 

Where  Light  eternal  reigns. 

35 


54^  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

My  God,  I  wait  for  Thee, 
To  end  this  mortal  strife ; 

Why  should  Thy  chariot  long  delay 
To  bring  immortal  life? 


ONLY  WAITING. 

ONLY  waiting  till  the  shadows 
Are  a  little  longer  grown  ; 
Only  waiting  till  the  glimmer 

Of  the  day's  last  beam  is  flown  ; 
Till  the  night  of  earth  is  faded 

From  the  heart,  once  full  of  day  ; 
Till  the  stars  of  heaven  are  breaking 
Through  the  twilight  soft  and  grey. 

Only  waiting  till  the  reapers 

Have  the  last  sheaf  gathered  home  ; 
For  the  summer-time  is  faded, 

And  the  autumn  winds  have  come. 
Quickly,  reapers!  gather  quickly 

The  last  ripe  hours  of  my  heart ; 
For  the  bloom  of  life  is  withered, 

And  I  hasten  to  depart. 

Only  waiting  till  the  angels 
Open  wide  the  mystic  gate, 

At  whose  feet  I  long  have  lingered, 
Weary,  poor  and  desolate ; 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN.  547 

Even  now  I  hear  the  footsteps, 

And  their  voices  far  away ; 
If  they  call  me,  I  am  waiting, 

Only  waiting  to  obey. 

Only  waiting  till  the  shadows 

Are  a  little  longer  grown ; 
Only  waiting  till  the  glimmer 

Of  the  day's  last  beam  is  flown ; 
Then  from  out  the  gathering  darkness 

Holy,  deathless  stars  shall  rise, 
By  whose  light  my  soul  shall  gladly 

Tread  its  pathway  to  the  skies. 


I'VE  BEEN  THINKING  OF  HOME. 

I'VE  been  thinking  of  home,  of  "  my  Father's  house, 
Where  the  many  mansions  be," 
Of  the  city  whose  streets  are  paved  with  gold, 
Of  its  jasper  walls,  so  fair  to  behold, 
Which  the  righteous  alone  shall  see. 

I've  been  thinking  of  home,  where  they  need  not  the 
light 

Of  the  sun,  nor  moon,  nor  star; 
Where  the  gates  of  pearl  "  are  not  shut  by  day, 
For  no  night  is  there,"  but  the  weary  may 

Find  rest  from  the  world  afar. 


548  HEAVEN   IN    SONG. 

['ve  been  thinking  of  home,  of  the  river  of  Hfe 

That  flows  through  the  city  so  pure ; 
Of  the  tree  that  stands  by  the  side  of  the  stream, 
Whose  leaves  in  mercy  with  blessings  teem, 
The  sin-wounded  soul  to  cure. 

I've  been  thinking  of  home,  of  the  loved  ones  there, 

Dear  friends  who  have  gone  before, 
With  whom  we  walked  to  the  death-river  side, 
And  sadly  thought,  as  we  watched  the  tide. 

Of  the  happy  days  of  yore. 

I've  been  thinking  of  home,  and  my  heart  is  full 

Of  love  for  the  Lamb  of  God, 
Who  His  precious  life  as  a  ransom  gave 
For  a  simple  race,  e'en  our  souls  to  save 

From  justice's  avenging  rod. 

I've  been  thinking  of  home,  and  I'm  homesick  now; 

My  spirit  doth  long  to  be 
In  "the  better  land,"  where  the  ransomed  sing 
Of  the  love  of  Christ,  their  Redeemer,  King, 

Of  mercy  so  costly,  so  free. 

I've    been    thinking    of    home,    yea,    **  home,    sweet 
home  ;" 

O,  there  may  we  all  unite 
With  the  white-robed  throng,  and  forever  raise 
To  the  triune  God  sweetest  songs  of  praise. 

With  glory,  and  honor,  and  might  ! 


WAITING   FOR    HEAVEN.  549 


SITTING  ON  THE  SHORE. 


Dinah  Maria  Mulock  Craik. 


THE  tide  has  ebb'd  away: 
No   more   wild    dashings   'gainst    the    adamant 
rocks, 
Nor  swaying  amidst  sea-weed  false  that  mocks 
The  hues  of  garden  gay  ; 
No  laugh  of  little  wavelets  at  their  play ; 
No  lucid  pools  reflecting  heaven's  clear  brow: 
Both  storm  and  calm  alike  are  ended  now. 

The  rocks  sit  grey  and  lone  ; 
The  shifting  sand  is  spread  so  smooth  and  dry, 
That  not  a  tide  might  ever  have  swept  by. 

Stirring  it  with  rude  moan  ; 

Only  some  weedy  fragments  idly  thrown 
To  rot  beneath  the  sky,  tell  what  has  been  ; 
But  Desolation's  self  has  grown  serene. 

After  the  mountains  rise, 
And  the  broad  estuary  widens  out, 
All  sunshine  ;  wheeling  round  and  round  about 

Seaward,  a  white  bird  flies  ; 

A  bird  ?     Nay,  seems  it  rather  in  these  eyes 
A  spirit,  o'er  Eternity's  dim  sea 
CaUing — '*  Come  thou  where  all  we  glad  souls  be.'' 


550  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

O  life,  O  silent  shore, 
Where  we  sit  patient :  O  great  sea  beyond, 
To  which  we  turn  with  solemn  hope  and  fond, 

But  sorrowful  no  more  ; 

But  little  while,  and  then  we  too  shall  soar 
Like  white-wing'd  sea-birds  in  the  Infinite  Deep  : 
Till  then,  Thou,  Father,  wilt  our  spirits  keep. 


THE  GOLDEN  GATES  APPEAR. 

"  "[\  yT  Y  Father's  house  on  high, 
iVX    Home  of  my  soul, — how  near, 

At  times,  to  Faith's  foreseeing  eye 
Thy  golden  gates  appear. 

"  Oh  !  then  my  spirit  faints 

To  reach  the  land  I  love. 
The  bright  inheritance  of  saints, 

Jerusalem  above." 


A   LLfTLE   LONGER  YET. 


From  the  Christian  Register. 


A  LITTLE  longer  yet,  a  little  longer 
Shall  violets  bloom  for  thee  and  sweet  birds  sing, 
And  the  lime  branches,  where  soft  winds  are  blowing. 
Shall  murmur  the  sweet  pit)mise  of  the  spring. 


WAITING    FOR   HEAVEN.  551 

A  little  longer  yet,  a  little  longer, 

Thou  shalt  behold  the  quiet  of  the  morn, 

While  tender  grasses,  and  awakening  flowers, 
Send  up  a  golden  tint  to  greet  the  dawn. 

A  little  longer  yet,  a  Httle  longer, 

The  tenderness  of  twilight  shall  be  thine, 

The  rosy  clouds  that  float  o'er  dying  daylight, 
Nor  fade  till  trembling  stars  begin  to  shine. 

A  little  longer  yet,  a  little  longer. 

Shall  starry  night  be  beautiful  to  thee, 

And  the  cold  moon  shall  look  through  the  blue  silence, 
Flooding  her  silver  path  upon  the  sea. 

A  little  longer  yet,  a  little  longer. 

Life  shall  be  thine — life  with  its  power  to  will, 
Life  with  its  strength  to  bear,  to  love,  to  conquer, 

Bringing  its  thousand  joys  thy  heart  to  fill. 

A  httle  longer  yet,  a  little  longer. 

The  voices  thou  hast  loved  shall  charm  thine  ear. 
And  thy  true  heart,  that  now  beats  quick  to  hear  them, 

A  httle  longer  yet,  shall  hold  them  dear. 

A  little  longer  still,  patience,  beloved  : 

A  little  longer  still,  ere  Heaven  unroll 
The  glory,  and  the  brightness,  and  the  wonder. 

Eternal  and  divine,  that  waits  thy  soul. 

A  httle  longer,  ere  life,  true,  immortal, 

(Not  this  our  shadowy  life)  will  be  thine  own ; 

And  thou  shalt  stand  where  winged  archangels  worship, 
And  trembling  bow  before  the  Great  White  Throne. 


552  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

A  little  longer  still,  and  Heaven  awaits  thee, 
To  fill  thy  spirit  with  a  great  delight; 

Then  our  pale  joys  will  seem  a  dream  forgotten, 
Our  sun  a  darkness,  and  our  day  a  night. 

A  little  longer,  and  thy  heart,  beloved, 
Shall  beat  forever  with  a  love  divine ; 

And  joy  so  pure,  so  mighty,  so  eternal, 

No  mortal  knows  and  lives,  shall  then  be  thine. 

A  little  longer  yet,  and  angel  voices 

Shall  break  in  heavenly  chant  upon  thine  ear ; 

Angels  and  saints  await  thee,  and  God  needs  thee; 
Beloved,  can  we  keep  thee  longer  here  } 


I  WOULD  NOT  LIVE  ALWAY. 


W.  A.  Muhlenberg. 


[The  following  is  the  original  of  the  entire  poem  of  which  a  part  is  familiar.] 

I  WOULD  not  live  alway, — live  alway  below! 
O,  no  !  I'll  not  linger,  when  bidden  to  go. 
The  days  of  our  pilgrimage  granted  us  here 
Are  enough  for  life's  woes,  full  enough  for  its  cheer. 
Would  I  shrink  from  the  path  which  the  prophets  of 

God, 
Apostles,  and  martyrs,  so  joyfully  trod? 
While  brethren  and  friends  are  all  hastening  home, 
Like  a  spirit  unblest  on  the  earth  would  I  roam  ? 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN.  553 

I  would  not  live  alway  ; — I  ask  not  to  stay, 
Where  storm  after  storm  rises  dark  o'er  the  way ; 
Where,  seeking  for  peace  we  but  hover  around, 
Like  the  patriarch's  bird,  and  no  resting  is  found  ; 
Where  hope,  when  she  paints  her  gay  bow  on  the  air, 
Leaves  its  brilliance  to  fade  in  the  night  of  despair, 
And  joy's  fleeting  angel  ne'er  sheds  a  glad  ray, 
Save  the  gl^am  of  the  plumage  that  bears  him  away. 

I  would  not  live  alway, — thus  fettered  by  sin, 
Temptation  without,  and  corruption  within  ; 
In  a  moment  of  strength  if  I  sever  the  chain. 
Scarce  the  victory  is  mine  ere  I'm  captive  again. 
E'en  the  rapture  of  pardon  is  mingled  with  fears, 
And  my  cup  of  thanksgiving  with  penitent  tears: 
The  festival  trump  calls  for  jubilant  songs,    ' 
But  my  spirit  her  own  '^niserere  prolongs. 

I  would  not  live  alway, — no,  welcome  the  tomb ; 

Immortality's  lamp  burns  there  bright  'mid  the  gloom  ; 

There,  too,  is  the  pillow  where  Christ  bowed  his  head ; 

O,  soft  are  the  slumbers  on  that  holy  bed ! 

And  then  the  glad  dawn  soon  to  follow  that  night, 

When  the  sifnrise  of  glory  shall  beam  on  my  sight. 

When  the  full  matin  song,  as  the  sleepers  arise 

To  shout  in  the  morning,  shall  peal  through  the  skies. 

Who,  who  would  live  alway?  away  from  his  God, 
Away  from  yon  heaven,  that  blissful  abode. 
Where  the  rivers  of  pleasure  flow  o'er  the  bright  plains. 
And  the  noontide  of  glory  eternally  reigns; 


554  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Where  the  saints  of  all  ages  in  harmony  meet, 
Their  Saviour  and  brethren  transported  to  greet, 
While  the  songs  of  salvation  unceasingly  roll, 
And  the  smile  of  the  Lord  is  the  feast  of  the  soul. 

That  heavenly  music  !  what  is  it  I  hear? 

The  notes  of  the  harpers  ring  sweet  in  the  air  : 

And  see,  soft  unfolding  those  portals  of  gold; 

The  King  all  arrayed  in  his  beauty  behold  ! 

O,  give  me,  O,  give  me  the  wings  of  a  dove  ! 

Let  me  hasten  my  flight  to  those  mansions  above; 

Ay,  't  is  now  that  my  soul  on  swift  pinions  would  soar, 

And  in  ecstacy  bid  earth  adieu  evermore. 


NEAR  TO  THE  PORT. 


Anonymous. 


A 


N  aged  man,  by  sorrow  bowed, 
Looked  on  the  sky  without  a  cloud, 


And  hailed,  as  from  his  couch  he  rose. 
Another  day  of  pure  repose. 

The  echoes  of  the  Sabbath  bell 
Upon  his  chastened  spirit  fell. 

He  trod,  with  low  and  reverent  air 
The  consccr:ited  aisles  of  prayer  ; 

And  felt  a  glory  from  above. 
Descending  as  a  Heavenly  Dove. 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN.  555 

O,  unto  him  no  place  so  sweet, 
As  sitting  at  his  Master's  feet  ; 

For  foretastes  wonderful  were  given, 
Of  the  Sabbatic  rest  of  Heaven  ; 

And  his  heart  cried,  "  Dear  Lord,  how  long 
Ere  I  shall  sing  the  conqueror's  song?  " 

The  wish  had  but  escaped  his  breast, 
When  visions  of  his  longed-for  rest 

Came  to  him,  with  o'crpowering  might, 
And  thrilled  him  with  excess  of  light. 

He  felt  the  mortal  man  give  way. 
The  spirit  loosened  from  its  clay  ; 

And  cried  again,  "  Dear  Lord,  is  this 
The  entrance  into  perfect  bliss !  " 

And,  as  the  pearly  gates  swung  wide, 

"  Near  to  the  Port,"  he  breathed,  and  died. 

Near  to  the  Port  !  O,  mariner. 
The  message  does  my  spirit  stir  ; 

And  my  heart  cries,  "  Dear  Lord,  how  long 
Ere  I  may  sing  the  heavenly  song  ? — 

Ere  the  rough  voyage  of  life  be  past, 
And  I  anchor  in  the  Port  at  last.^" 


556  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


AH,  THIS  HEART  IS  VOID  AND  CHILL. 


From  the  German  of  C.  J.  P.  Spitta,  by  Gerald  Massey. 


AH  !  this  heart  is  void  and  chill, 
'Mid  earth's  noisy  thronging— 
For  the  Father's  mansion  still 
Vehemently  is  longing ! 

In  the  garments  once  so  strong 
Now  are  rents  distressing ; 

And  the  sandals  borne  so  long 
Heavily  are  pressing. 

Ah  !  to  be  at  home,  and  gain 
All  for  which  we're  sighing — 

From  all  earthly  want  and  pain 
To  be  swiftly  flying  ! 

With  this  load  of  sin  and  care, 
Then  no  longer  bending. 

But  with  waiting  angels,  there, 
On  our  Lord  attending! 

Ah  !  how  greatly  blessed  they 
Who  have  rightly  striven, 

And  rejoice  eternally 

With  the  Lord,  in  Heaven ! 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN.  557 


KEEP  ME  NOT  HERE  A  VOICE  IS  CALLING. 


George  Burrowes. 


"  Let  me  go  for  the  day  breaketh." 

KEEP  me  not  here!     A  voice  from  heaven  is  call- 
ing, 
Arise,  my  love,  my  fair  one,  come  away ; 
Unearthly  light  around  my  soul  is  falling, 
The  glory — dawn  of  heaven's  eternal  day. 

Keep  me  not  here  !     Amid  that  light  descending, 
Angels  an  escort  stand  in  bright  array ; 

A  choral  welcome  harps  and  voices  blending, 

They  point  to  heaven — "Arise  and  come  away!  " 

Keep  me  not  here !     Far  on  yon  heavenly  mountain 
Of  frankincense  and  myrrh,  till  break  of  day, 

Is  He  awaiting  me  by  life's  pure  fountain, — 
Give  me  an  angel's  wings  to  soar  away. 

Keep  me  not  here  !     The  vale  of  death  is  glowing, 
Its  shades  and  terrors  lighted  into  day  ; 

The  saints  in  light  with  wreaths  triumphal  strewing 
Its  fearful  path,  are  beckoning  me  away. 

Keep  me  not  here !     My  deepest  spirit  gushing 
With  glowing  love  to  Jesus,  bursts  this  clay  ; 

Love's  deep-toned  calmness,  sin's  last  tremor  hushing, 
Can  rest  not  here  on  earth,  away  !  away  ! 


558  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

Keep  me  not  here !     Around  my  soul  is  falling 

Heaven's  mantling  robe  of  love,  heaven's  boundless 
day; 

I  hear  a  voice  from  heaven — 'tis  Jesus  calling, 
Arise,  my  love,  my  fair  one,  come  away. 


THE  STRANGE  SURPRISE. 


DwiGHT  Williams. 


**  A  little  while,  and  ye  shall  not  see  me  :  and  again  a  little  while,  and  ye  shall  see 
me  ;  because  I  go  to  the  Father." 


"A 


LITTLE  while," 
Lone  pilgrim  hear  the  word 
Of  thy  dear  absent  Lord  ; 
He  said  thou  shouldst  not  see  him  for  a  while, 

The  dark  defile 
Of  life  doth  briefly  hide  his  tender  smile. 

"  A  little  while,'' 
The  veil  may  intervene. 
And  darkness  hang  between 
The  form  thou  lovest  and  thy  weary  eyes ; 

The  mists  will  rise. 
And  that  will  be  a  sweet  and  strange  surprise. 

'^  A  little  while," 
And  life's  dark  passing  storm, 
Shall  change  to  sunlight  warm. 
And  all  with  these  shall  be  eternal  calm, 

And  angel  psalm 
Shall  on  thy  spirit  pour  its  healing  balm. 


WAITING   FOR    HEAVEN.  559 

"  A  little  while," 
And  thou  shalt  strangely  hear, 
The  accents  soft  and  clear, 
Of  olden  voices  ring  familiarly, 
And  O  to  thee, 
How  sweet  will  those  glad  words  of  welcome  be. 

''  A  Httle  while," 
And  softly  gliding  out 
From  this  dark  sea  of  doubt, 
Thy  thought  will  rise  and  wing  its  easy  flight 

Through  paths  of  light. 
And  thou  shalt  look  upon  the  Infinite. 

"  A  little  while," 
Thy  weary  pilgrim  feet 
Upon  the  golden  street 
Will  stand,  and  down  the  shining  avenue, 

With  radiance  new, 
Thine  own  eternal  mansion  thou  shalt  view. 

"  A  little  while," 
Pursue  the  way  of  faith, 
Though  toilsome  be  the  path ; 
Some  day  the  darksome  haze  will  vanish  quite. 

And  on  the  sight, 
Celestial  morn  will  drop  its  changeless  light. 


ik 


560  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


0»  ANGEL  OF  THE  LAND  OF  PEACE. 


Mrs.  C.  M.  Sawyer. 


O  ANGEL  of  the  land  of  peace, 
When  wilt  thou  ever  come  for  me  ? 
I  fain  would  be  where  sorrows  cease, 
I  dread  no  more  thy  kind  release, 
I  wait  for  thee. 

Sleep  shuns  mine  eyes — mine  inner  sight 

Is  turning  dimly  heavenward, 
To  that  far  off  land  of  love  and  light, 
Where  angels  all  the  silent  night 
Earth's  children  guard. 

My  yearning  soul  would  fain  demand, 

O,  holy  angels,  pure  and  blest, 
Where,  'mid  yon  happy,  shining  band. 
In  all  the  heavenly  Fatherland, 
My  lost  ones  rest ! 

Thou,  who  alone,  when  man  forgets 
His  heavenly  innocence,  and  fell, 
Still  pitying,  lingered  round  the  spot 
To  soothe  the  anguish  of  his  lot — 
Thou,  Thou  canst  tell  ! 


WAITING   FOR    HEAVEN.  561 

For  Thou,  with  sweet  and  loving  smile, 
Didst  gently  lure  them  to  Thy  breast, 
And  bear  them  for  this  world  of  guile, 
Thy  pale,  pure  angel  lips  the  while 
Upon  them  prest. 

Dark  grew  my  soul — till  down  the  air 

Thy  seraph-smile  upon  me  fell ! 
And  then  I  knew,  from  sin  and  care. 
That  Thou  my  little  ones  didst  bear 
With  God  to  dwell ! 

O,  angel  of  the  land  of  peace  I 

When  wilt  Thou  ever  come  for  me  ? 
I  fain  would  be  where  sorrows  cease  ; 
I  dread  no  more  Thy  kind  release : 
I  wait  for  Thee  ! 


LONGING  FOR  THE  FATHERLAND. 


Marianne  Farningham. 


LONGING  evermore  for  the  Fatherland  above, 
Where  the  unquiet   yearning   heart    shall    have 
enough  of  love : 
Longing  for  the  evergreens  on  the  everlasting  hills — 
Longing  for  the  happy  land  where  there  are  no  more 
chills : 


562  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Longing  for  the  safety  of  the  blessed  home  in  heaven, 
Longing  for  the  rest  to  the  weary  pilgrim  given, 
Longing  for  the  Saviour's  voice  to  welcome  me  above, 
Longing  for  the  Father's  smile  of  kind  forgiving  love. 


HEART-SICK  WITH  HOPE  DEFERRED. 


Christina  G.  Rossetti. 


THIS  Advent  moon  shines  cold  and  clear, 
These  Advent  nights  are  long  ; 
Our  lamps  have  burned  year  after  year, 

And  still  their  flame  is  strong. 
Watchman,  what  of  the  night  ?  we  cry. 

Heart-sick  with  hope  deferred  : 
No  speaking  signs  are  in  the  sky — 
Is  still  the  watchman's  word. 

The  porter  watches  at  the  gate, 

The  servants  watch  within  ; 
The  watch  is  long  betimes  and  late. 

The  prize  is  slow  to  win  : 
Watchman,  what  of  the  night  ?     But  still 

His  answer  sounds  the  same — 
No  daybreak  tops  the  utmost  hill. 

Nor  pale  our  lamps  of  flame. 

One  to  another  hear  them  speak 

The  patient  Virgins  wise — 
Surely  He  is  not  far  to  seek ; 

All  night  we  watch  and  rise  ; 


WAITING   FOR    HEAVEN.  563 

The  days  are  evil  looking  back, 

The  coming  days  are  dim  ; 
Yet  count  we  not  His  promise  slack, 

But  watch  and  wait  for  Him. 

One  with  another,  soul  with  soul, 

They  kindle  fire  from  fire: 
Friends  watch  us  who  have  touched  the  goal ; 

They  urge  us — "  come  up  higher  ;  " 
With  them  shall  rest  our  waysore  feet, 

With  them  is  built  our  home, 
With  Christ^they  sweet,  but  He  most  sweet, 

Sweeter  than  honeycomb. 

There  no  more  parting,  no  more  pain, 

The  distant  ones  brought  near, 
The  lost  so  long  are  found  again, 

Long  lost  but  longer  dear  : 
Eye  hath  not  seen,  ear  hath  not  heard. 

Nor  heart  conceived  that  rest, 
With  them  our  good  things  long  deferred, 

With  Jesus  Christ  our  best. 

We  weep  because  the  night  is  long, 

We  laugh  for  day  shall  rise. 
We  sing  a  slow  contented  song 

And  knock  at  Paradise : 
Weeping  we  hold  Him  fast.  Who  wept 

For  us,  we  hold  Him  fast  ; 
And  will  not  let  Him  go  except 

He  bless  us  first  or  last. 


564  HEAVEN   IN    SONG. 

Weeping  we  hold  Him  fast  to-night ; 

We  will  not  let  Him  go 
Till  daybreak  smite  our  wearied  sight 

And  summer  smite  the  snow: 
Then  figs  shall  bud,  and  dove  with  dove 

Shall  coo  the  livelong  day  ; 
Then  He  shall  say — Arise!  My  love, 

My  fair  one,  come  away  ! 


MY  SPIRIT  WAITING  STANDS. 


Isaac  Watts. 


THERE  is  a  house  not  made  with  hands, 
Eternal,  and  on  high  ; 
And  here  my  spirit  waiting  stands 
Till  God  shall  bid  it  fly. 

Shortly  this  prison  of  my  clay 

Must  be  dissolved  and  fall ; 
Then,  O  my  soul,  with  joy  obey 

Thy  heavenly  Father's  call. 

'Tis  He,  by  His  almighty  grace, 

That  forms  thee  fit  for  heaven, 
And,  as  an  earnest  of  the  place, 

Has  His  own  Spirit  given. 

We  walk  by  faith  of  joys  to  come ; 

Faith  lives  upon  His  word ; 
But  while  the  body  is  our  home, 

We're  absent  from  the  Lord. 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN.  565 

'Tis  pleasant  to  believe  Thy  grace, 

But  we  had  rather  see  ; 
We  would  be  absent  from  the  flesh, 

And  present,  Lord,  with  Thee. 


THIS  DARK  WORLD,  AND  THAT  BRIGHT 

LAND. 

EARTH,  with  all  its  sin  and  sadness. 
Pain  and  sickness,  grief  and  care  u 
Heaven,  with  its  unspoken  gladness, 
Light  and  love,  and  all  that's  fair ; 
How  the  two  contrasted  stand — 
This  dark  world,  and  that  ^rignt  land. 

Here  the  eye  grows  dim  with  weeping, 
Here  the  cheek  is  wan  with  woe. 

For  the  loved  ones  who  are  sleeping, 
For  the  hopes  that  are  laid  low ; 

In  the  light  of  heaven's  ray, 

Tears  of  earth  are  wiped  away. 

Here  our  toilsome  way  pursuing, 
Compass'd  round  with  many  foes  ; 

Pleasures  are  not  worth  the  wooing, 
Thorns  are  found  with  every  rose  ; 

There — the  sorrowful  are  blest ; 

There — the  weary  are  at  rest. 


566  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Here  a  lonely  watch  we're  keeping 

On  the  battle-plain  of  life, 
Lest  the  foe  should  find  us  sleeping, 

And  unfitted  for  the  strife ; 
There  the  war  and  conflict  cease, 
Heaven's  atmosphere  is  peace. 

Here  our  painful  cross  we're  bearing, 
Where  our  Master  leads  the  way 

Here  the  shame  and  grief  we're  sharing, 
That  for  us  upon  Him  lay; 

There  we  lay  our  burden  down. 

Change  the  cross  into  the  crown. 

Here  the  parting  word  is  spoken, 
Where  oar  hearts  the  closest  cling. 

And  upon  the  spirit  broken, 
Like  a  knell  its  accents  ring ; 

There,  before  the  Saviour's  throne, 

Parting  is  a  word  unknown. 


O  LAND  UNKNOWN,  IN  THEE  ALONE. 


Samuel  Willoughby  Duffield. 


A  LITTLE  song  has  come  to  me, 
A  strain  of  sadness  from  over  sea ; 
And  I  hear  its  music,  and  love  it  well, 
Thoucfh  the  heart  that  framed  it  I  cannot  tell. 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN.  567 

A  little  picture  comes  to  me, 
A  dash  of  brightness  from  over  sea  ; 
There  are  clasping  hands  and  a  holy  face — 
But  the  name  of  the  artist  who  can  trace  ? 

So  I,  in  faith  which  comes  to  me, 

Believe  in  a  land  across  the  sea, 

Where  my  vaguest  fancies  may  stand  supreme, 

In  a  grand  perfection  beyond  my  dream. 

O  land  unknown !  in  thee  alone 

Shall  formless  lyrics  to  shape  be  grown ; 

In  thee  all  rhapsody  riseth  true, 

And  the  thoughts  of  beauty  are  ever  new. 

O  land  unknown  !  where  all  is  best ; 
In  thee  is  my  aspiration  blest ; 
For  I  toil  and  tarry  until  I  may 
With  my  broken  sentences  pass  away. 


WHEN  SHALL  THE  DAWN  OF  DAY. 


Anonymous. 


WHEN  shall  the  dawn  of  day 
Welcome  me  home  ? 
When  o'er  the  pleasant  way 

My  footsteps  roam  ? 

When  where  the  angels  sing, 

Shall  I  my  treasures  bring, 

Borne  on  the  seraph's  wing, 

Borne  to  my  home? 


568  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

When  shall  the  gates  of  gold 

Open  for  me, 
Into  the  Shepherd's  fold, 

Happy  and  free  ? 
Far  from  a  world  of  care, 
Jesus  my  Saviour  near; 
Angels  of  glory  there 

I  long  to  see. 

When  shall  the  dawn  of  day 

Guide  me  afar — 
Where  beams,  in  holy  light, 

The  risen  star  ? 
Where  Christ  shall  still  be  mine, 
Where  endless  glories  shine. 
Where  sorrow,  joy  divine, 

Never  can  mar. 

When  shall  the  dawn  of  day 

Welcome  me  home? 
When  o'er  the  pleasant  way 

My  footsteps  roam  ? 
When  where  the  angels  sing, 
Shall  I  my  treasures  bring, 
Borne  on  the  seraph's  wing. 
Borne  to  my  home  ? 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN.  569 


O  SWEET  HOME-ECHO  ON   THE    PILGRIM'S 

WAY. 


Mrs.  Dr.  Meta  Heusser-Schweizer,  [the  sweet  evangelical  singer  of  Switzerland]. 
Translated  by  Jane  Borthwick. 


"  And  so  shall  we  ever  be  with  the  Lord." 

O  SWEET  home-echo  on  the  pilgrim's  way, 
Thrice  welcome  message  from  a  land  of  light ! 
As  through  a  clouded  sky  the  moonbeams  stray, 

So  on  eternity's  deep  shrouded  night 
Streams  a  mild  radiance,  from  that  cheering  word ; 
**  So  shall  we  be  forever  with  the  Lord.'' 

At  home  with  Jesus?    He  who  went  before. 
For  His  own  people  mansions  to  prepare  ; 

The  soul's  deep  longings  stilled,  its  conflicts  o'er. 
All  rest  and  blessedness  with  Jesus  there. 

What  home  like  this  can  the  wide  earth  afford  ? 
"  So  shall  we  be  forever  with  the  Lord" 

With  Him  all  gathered !  to  that  blessed  home. 
Through  all  its  windings,  still  the  pathway  tends ; 

While  ever  and  anon  bright  glimpses  come 
Of  that  fair  city  where  the  journey  ends. 

Where  all  of  bliss  is  centred  in  one  word  : 
"  So  shall  we  be  forever  with  the  Lord." 


570  HEAVEN   IN    SONG. 

Here,  kindred  hearts  are  severed  far  and  wide, 
By  many  a  weary  mile  of  land  and  sea, 

Or  life's  all-varied  cares  and  paths  divide  ; 
But  yet  a  joyful  gathering  shall  be. 

The  broken  links  repaired,  the  lost  restored, 
"  So  shall  we  be  forever  with  the  Lord." 

And  is  there  ever  perfect  union  here  ? 

Ah  !   daily  sins,  lamented  and  confessed, 
They  come  between  us  and  the  friends  most  dear, 

They  mar  our  blessedness  and  break  our  rest. 
With  life  we  leave  the  evils  long  deplored  : 

''  So  shall  we  be  forever  with  the  Lord." 

All  prone  to  error,  none  set  wholly  free 

From  the  old  serpent's  soul-ensnaring  chain. 

The  truths  one  child  of  God  can  clearly  see, 
He  seeks  to  make  his  brother  feel  in  vain  ; 

But  all  shall  harmonize  in  heaven's  full  chord  : 
"  So  shall  we  be  forever  with  the  Lord." 

O  blessed  promise  !  mercifully  given, 

Well  may  it  hush  the  wail  of  earthly  woe  ; 

O'er  the  dark  passage  to  the  gates  of  heaven 
The  light  of  love  and  resurrection  throw  ! 

Thanks  for  the  blessed,  life-inspiring  word : 
*'  So  shall  we  be  forever  with  the  Lord." 


WAITING  FOR  HEAVEN.  571 


MY  TASK  IS  O'ER,  MY  WORK  IS  DONE. 


From  Parish  Musings. 


M 


Y  task  is  o'er,  my  work  is  done, 
And  spent  the  weary  day ; 
I've  fought  the  fight,  the  battle's  won, 

And  I  must  haste  away ; 
Henceforth  there  is  laid  up  for  me 
A  crown,  through  all  eternity. 

A  crown  by  hands  eternal  wove. 

Meet  for  a  child  of  God — 
Gemmed  with  the  jewels  of  His  love, 

And  purchased  by  His  blood  : 
Which  human  hands  could  ne'er  have  wrought, 

And  human  merit  ne'er  have  bought. 

Farewell  the  cross  'neath  which  so  long 

I've  watched  and  fought  below ; 
And  welcome  now  the  harp  and  song 

That  wait  me  where  I  go  ; 
Yet,  oh,  that  cross  must  still  be  dear, 
Though  borne  through  many  a  sorrow  here. 

And  oft  throughout  eternity, 

*Mid  all  that's  bright  and  blest, 
Its  victory  my  joy  shall  be. 

And  I  will  love  it  best  : 
For  'twas  through  Him  who  died  thereon 
My  fight  was  fought,  my  battle  won. 


572  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


DAY  OF  THE  BEAUTIFUL,  ARISE,  AWAKE! 


HORATIUS   BONAR. 


TO  dream  a  troubled  dream,  and  then  awaken 
To  the  soft  gladness  of  a  summer  sky ; 
To  dream  ourselves  alone,  unloved,  forsaken, 

And  then  to  wake  'mid  smiles,  and  love,  and  joy ! 

To  look  at  evening  on  the  storm's  rude  motion. 
The  cloudy  tumult  of  the  fretted  deep ; 

And  then  at  day-burst  upon  that  same  ocean, 
Soothed  to  the  stillness  of  its  stillest  sleep  ! 

So  runs  our  course — so  tells  the  church  her  story. 

So  to  the  end  shall  it  be  ever  told ; 
Brief  shame  on  earth,  but  after  shame  the  glory. 

That  wanes  not,  dims  not,  never  waxes  old. 

Lord  Jesus,  come,  and  end  this  troubled  dreaming  ! 

Dark  shadows  vanish,  rosy  twiHght  break! 
Morn  of  the  true  and  real,  burst  forth,  calm-beaming ! 

Day  of  the  beautiful,  arise,  awake  ! 


CZu** 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN.  573 


THE  LEAVES  AROUND  ME  FALLING. 


Henry  Francis  Lyte. 


THE  leaves  around  me  falling 
Are  preaching  of  decay ; 
The  hollow  winds  are  calling, 

"  Come,  pilgrim,  come  away  !  " 

The  day,  in  night  declining, 

Says,  I  must  too  decline : 

The  year  its  life  resigning — 

Its  lot  foreshadows  mine. 

The  light  my  path  surrounding, 

The  loves  to  which  I  cling, 
The  hopes  within  me  bounding. 

The  joys  that  round  me  wing — 
All  melt,  like  stars  of  even 

Before  the  morning's  ray. 
Pass  upward  into  Heaven, 

And  chide  at  my  delay. 

The  friends  gone  there  before  me 

Are  calling  from  on  high, 
And  joyous  angels  o'er  me 

Tempt  sweetly  to  the  sky. 
**  Why  wait,"  they  say,  "  and  wither, 

'Mid  scenes  of  death  and  sin? 
O  rise  to  glory  hither, 

And  find  true  life  begin." 


574  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

I  hear  the  invitation, 

And  fain  would  rise  and  come,- 
A  sinner  to  salvation ; 

An  exile  to  his  home : 
But  while  I  here  must  linger, 

Thus,  thus,  let  all  I  see 
Point  on,  with  faithful  finger, 

To  Heaven,  O  Lord,  and  Thee. 


STANDING  ON  THE  HEADLANDS. 


From  Leaves  Gathered. 


LONG  in  this  wild,  wild  country. 
Where  rue  and  nightshade  grow 
Where  waters  black  and  bitter, 
All  fairest  meads  o'erflow. 

Where  from  the  heart  all  broken 
Floats  forth  a  wailing  cry  ; 
And  days  are  dark  and  dreary, 
And  years  drift  sadly  by. 

Where  skies  are  grey  and  stormy  ; 

And  mountains  bleak  and  cold 
Look  down  on  wintry  ocean. 

On  barren  heath  and  wold. 

Long,  in  this  sinful  country, 
I've  wandered  poor  and  lone  ; 

To  every  illness  subject. 
To  every  weakness  prone. 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN.  575 

Now,  standing  on  the  headlands, 

I  greet  the  coming  dawn  ; 
Mine  eyes  drink  in  the  glory 

Of  the  approaching  morn. 

I  see  my  dear  loved  Saviour, 

Clad  in  the  purest  white, — 
And  sky  and  earth  and  headland 

Are  bathed  in  golden  light. 

This  earth  is  fading  from  me. 

No  more  the  wild  winds  sigh  ; 
No  more  the  days,  all  dreary. 

Go  drifting  sadly  by. 

But,  watching  my  Lord's  coming, 

With  loving,  trusting  faith, 
I  fold  my  hands — so  weary — 

And  calmly  wait — for  death. 

O  blessed,  blessed  country  ! 

No  pains,  nor  bitter  tears  ; 
No  fainting  'neath  the  burden, 

No  doubts — no  cruel  fears. 

O  bright,  unchanging  glory  ! 

O  radiant  array! 
O  sweet  and  dream-like  music  ! 

O  cloudless,  endless  day ! 


$7^  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


O  WHAT  A  GLAD  ASCENDING. 


HORATIUS   BONAR. 


I  LOVE  yon  pale  blue  sky  ;  it  is  the  floor 
Of  that  glad  home  where  I  shall  shortly  be  ; 
A  home  from  which  I  shall  go  out  no  more ; 
From  toil  and  grief  and  vanity  set  free. 

I  gaze  upon  yon  everlasting  arch, 

Up  which  the  bright  stars  wander,  as  they  shine-; 
And  as  I  mark  them  in  their  nightly  march, 

I  think  how  soon  that  journey  shall  be  mine  ! 

Yon  silver  drift  of  silent  cloud,  far  up 

In  the  still  heaven — through  you  my  pathway  lies  ; 
Yon  rugged  mountain-peak — how  soon  your  top 

Shall  I  behold  beneath  me,  as  I  rise  ! 

Not  many  more  of  life's  slow-pacing  hours. 
Shaded  with  sorrow's  melancholy  hue  ; — 

Oh,  what  a  glad  ascending  shall  be  ours. 
Oh,  what  a  pathway  up  yon  starry  blue  ! 

A  journey  like  Elijah's,  swift  and  bright, 
Caught  gently  upward  to  an  early  crown, 

In  heaven's  own  chariot  of  unblazing  light, 
With  death  untasted  and  the  grave  unknown  ! 


WAITING   FOR    HEAVEN.  577 


UP  TO  THAT  WORLD  OF  LIGHT. 

"  Then  face  to  face." 

WHEN  shall  we  meet  again, — 
Meet  ne'er  to  sever? 
When  will  Peace  wreathe  her  chain 

Round  us  forever  ? 
Our  hearts  will  ne'er  repose 
Safe  from  each  blast  that  blows, 
In  this  dark  vale  of  woes. 
Never, — no,  never  ! 

When  shall  love  freely  flow 

Pure  as  Life's  river  ? 
When  shall  sweet  friendship  glow, 

Changeless  forever  ? 
Where  joys  celestial  thrill, 
Where  bliss  each  heart  shall  fill, 
And  fears  of  parting  chill 


Up  to  that  world  of  light 
Take  us,  dear  Saviour: 
May  we  all  there  unite, 

Happy  forever  ! 
Where  kindred  spirits  dwell, 
There  may  our  music  swell, 
And  time  our  joys  dispel 
Never, — no,  never! 
37 


578  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 


WHEN  I  AM  OVER  JORDAN. 


Anonymous. 


TOSSED  on  the  billows  far  and  wide, 
And  struggling  'gainst  a  whelming  tide, 
When  shall  I  to  the  haven  come, 
And  moor  my  bark,  and  see  my  home  ? 
When  I  am  over  Jordan  1 

When  shall  I  see  my  sins  all  slain  ? 
When  shall  I  see  my  Saviour  reign 
Victorious  o'er  these  fears  of  mine, 
Which  dare  His  boundless  love  confine? 
When  I  am  over  Jordan ! 

When  shall  I  see  Him  face  to  face. 
And  find  a  blessed  resting-place  ? 
And  hide  me  where  His  people  hide, 
Who  have  been  washed  and  purified  ? 
When  I  am  over  Jordan  1 

When  shall  my  falt'ring  tongue  confess 
The  wonders  of  His  righteousness  ? 
And  sing  the  song  the  ransomed  raise, 
Dearer  than  angels'  loftiest  praise  ? 
When  I  am  over  Jordan ! 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN.  579 

Here,  cast  about,  and  faint  and  weak, 
Dumb  when  I  would  His  praises  speak; 
There  shall  my  voice  ring  out  on  high, 
Till  heaven's  wide  arches  give  reply — 
When  I  am  over  Jordan  ! 


THE  STRANGER  SEA-BIRD. 


HORATIUS     BONAR. 


FAR  from  his  breezy  home  of  cliff  and  billow, 
Yon  sea-bird  folds  his  wing  ; 
Upon   the   tremulous   bough    of  this    stream-shading 
willow 
He  stays  his  wandering. 

Fanned   by   fresh   leaves,    and    soothed    by    blossoms 
closing, 

His  lullaby  the  stream, 
A  stranger,  in  bewildered  lonehness  reposing, 

He  dreams  his  ocean-dream  : — 

His  dream  of  ocean-haunts,  and  ocean-brightness, 

The  rock,  the  wave,  the  foam, 
The  blue  above,  beneath,  the  sea-cloud's  trail  of  white- 
ness, 

His  unforgotten  home. 

And  he  would  fly,  but  cannot,  for  the  shadows 

Of  night  have  barred  his  way  ; 
How  could  he  search  a  path  across   these  woods   and 
meadows 

To  his  far  sea-home  spray  ? 


58o  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Dark  miles  of  thicket,  swamp,  and  moorland  dreary, 

Forbid  his  hopeless  flight; 
With  plumage  soiled,  eye  dim,  heart  faint,  and  wing 
all  weary. 
He  waits  for  sun  and  light. 

And  I,  in  this  far  land,  a  timid  stranger. 

Resting  by  Time's  lone  stream. 
Lie   dreaming,  hour  by  hour,  beset  with  night  and 
danger, 

The  Church's  Patmos-dream  : 

The  dream  of  home  possessed,. and  all  home's  glad- 
ness, 

Beyond  these  unknown  hills, 
Of  solace  after  earth's  sore  days  of  stranger-sadness, 

Beside  the  eternal  rills. 

Life's  exile  past,  all  told  its  broken  story  ; 

Night,  death,  and  evil  gone  ; 
This  more  than  Egypt-shame  exchanged  for  Canaan 
glory, 

And  the  bright  city  won  ! 

Come  then,  O  Christ !  earth's  Monarch  and  Redeemer, 

Thy  glorious  Eden  bring. 
Where  I,  even  I,  at  last,  no  more  a  trembling  dreamer, 

Shall  fold  my  heavy  wing. 


WAITING   FOR    HEAVEN.  58I 


AH  !  HOW  EMPTY  IS  THE  HEART. 


From  the  German  of  C.  J.  P.  Spitta,  by  Richard  Massib. 


AH  !  how  empty  is  the  heart 
In  the  midst  of  pleasure, 
And  how  fain  would  we  depart 
To  our  heavenly  treasure. 

Threadbare  now  our  garb  with  age, 

Still  repair  is  needing, 
And  our  feet  with  pilgrimage 

Painful  are  and  bleeding. 

Gladly  would  we  be  at  home, 
Free  from  toil  and  dangers, 

And  no  longer  houseless  roam 
In  a  land  of  strangers ; 

Gladly  lay  aside  the  load 
Which  our  flesh  inherits, 

Worshipping  and  serving  God 
With  the  ransomed  spirits. 

But  since  Thou  dost  yet  delay 

To  Thyself  to  take  us. 
Lord,  prepare  us  while  we  stay, 

Meet  for  heaven  make  us. 


582  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Richly  shall  we  then  be  blest, 
When,  our  warfare  ending, 

We  enjoy  the  promised  rest. 
With  our  Lord  ascending. 


HEAVENWARD    DOTH    OUR    JOURNEY 
TEND. 


From  ScHMOLK,  Translated  by  Caroline  Winkworth. 


HEAVENWARD  doth  our  journey  tend, 
We  are  strangers  here  on  earth. 
Through  the  wilderness  we  wend 

Towards  the  Canaan  of  our  birth. 
Here  we  roam  a  pilgrim  band. 
Yonder  is  our  native  land. 

Heavenward  stretch,  my  soul,  thy  wings, 
Heavenly  nature  canst  thou  claim. 

There  is  nought  of  earthly  things 
Worthy  to  be  all  thine  aim  ; 

Every  soul  whom  God  inspires. 

Back  to  Him  its  Source  aspires. 

Heavenward  !  doth  His  Spirit  cry, 

When  I  hear  Him  in  His  Word, 
Showing  thus  the  rest  on  high. 

Where  I  shall  be  with  my  Lord  : 
When  His  Word  fills  all  my  thought. 
Oft  to  heaven  my  soul  is  caught. 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN.  583 

Heavenward  ever  would  I  haste, 

When  Thy  Table,  Lord,  is  spread  : 
Heavenly  strength  on  earth  I  taste, 

Feeding  on  the  Living  Bread. 
Such  is  e'en  on  earth  our  fare 
Who  Thy  marriage  feast  shall  share. 

Heavenwards  !    Faith  discerns  the  prize 

That  is  waiting  us  afar, 
And  my  heart  would  swiftly  rise, 

High  o'er  sun  and  moon  and  star, 
To  that  Light  behind  the  veil 
Where  all  earthly  splendors  pale. 

Heavenward  Death  shall  lead  at  last, 

To  the  home  where  I  would  be, 
All  my  sorrows  overpast, 

I  shall  triumph  there  with  Thee, 
Jesus,  who  hast  gone  before. 
That  we  too  might  Heavenwards  soar. 

Heavenwards  !    Heavenwards  !    Only  this 

Is  my  watchword  on  the  earth  * 
For  the  love  of  heavenly  bliss 

Counting  all  things  little  worth. 
Heavenward  all  my  being  tends, 
Till  in  Heaven  my  journey  ends. 


584  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 


A  CITY  YET  TO  COME. 


HORATIUS  BONAR. 


THIS  is  not  my  place  of  resting, 
Mine's  a  city  yet  to  come  ; 
Onwards  to  it  I  am  hasting — 
On  to  my  eternal  home. 

In  it  all  is  light  and  glory, 

O'er  it  shines  a  nightless  day ; 

Every  trace  of  sin's  sad  story, 
All  the  curse,  has  passed  away. 

There  the  Lamb,  our  Shepherd,  leads  us. 
By  the  streams  of  life  along ; 

On  the  freshest  pastures  feeds  us, 
Turns  our  sighing  into  song. 

Soon  we  pass  this  desert  dreary, 
Soon  we  bid  farewell  to  pain  ; 

Never  more  be  sad  or  weary, 
Never,  never  sin  again. 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN.  $85 


O  FOR  THE  CALM  BEYOND  THE  STORMS. 


Anonymous. 


OH  !  for  the  calm  beyond  the  storms, 
In  the  presence  of  the  Lord, 
Where  with  angels  bright, 
Both  day  and  night. 
We  shall  hear  His  sacred  word  ! 

Oh  !  for  the  body  free  from  pain, 
The  spirit  free  from  sin, 

Which  He  will  give 

To  the  souls  that  live, 
Who  shall  dwell  His  courts  within  ! 

Oh  !  for  the  joy  no  eye  hath  seen. 
No  human  heart  hath  known ! 

For  faint  and  low 

Fall  the  echoes  below 
Of  the  songs  around  His  throne. 

But,  oh  !  for  grace  to  serve  Him  here, 
To  rest  upon  His  love, 

To  walk  with  God 

On  our  earthly  road, 
And  to  anchor  our  joys  above  ! 


586  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Oh !  for  a  faith  to  see  the  Lord 
Through  darkness  and  through  tears, 

To  hear  His  voice, 

And  still  to  rejoice, 
And  watch  till  the  day  appears! 


GLIMPSES  OF  A  HEAVENLY   HOME. 


Anonymous. 


THERE  come,  sometimes,  brightly  beaming, 
,  Glimpses  of  a  heavenly  home, 
Beautiful  as  childhood's  dreaming, 
Ere  its  feet  have  learned  to  roam — 

Radiant  visions 
Of  the  land  beyond  the  tomb. 

They  come,  sometimes,  quickly  streaming 

From  the  darkness  of  the  soul, 
Like  the  fiery  lightning,  gleaming 

When  the  muttering  thunders  roll — 
Truthful  ever 

As  the  needle  to  the  pole. 

They  come,  sometimes,  like  the  morning, 

Ushering  in  the  perfect  day  ; 
Like  the  star,  before  the  dawning, 

Of  the  sun's  resplendent  ray — 
Glorious  vision, 

Lighting  all  life's  weary  way. 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN.  587 

They  come,  sometimes,  like  the  waving 

Of  his  bright  locks  in  the  west, 
When  the  sun  in  glory  laving, 
Sinks  upon  old  ocean's  breast — 

Happy  visions 
Of  a  long  and  peaceful  rest. 

They  come,  like  the  beacon  glancing 
Through  the  tempest  and  the  gloom, 

When  the  bark,  in  fury  dancing, 
Reels  before  the  howling  storm, 

Guiding  onward 
To  a  haven  and  a  home. 

They  come,  like  the  tired  bird  winging 
From  her  sea-flight  toward  the  land  ; 

Like  the  shell  that's  always  singing 
Of  its  native  ocean  strand. 

With  the  music 
Of  the  white  wave  on  the  sand. 

They  come,  gently,  gently  chiding 

When  in  devious  paths  we  roam. 
Pointing  oft  and  always  guiding 

To  our  heavenly  Father's  home ; 
Upward,  upward. 

Far  above  yon  starry  dome. 


588  HEAVEN   IN    SONG. 


NO  SHADOWS  YONDER. 


HOKATIUS    BONAR. 


NO  shadows  yonder ! 
All  light  and  song  ! 
Each  day  I  wonder, 
And  say  !     How  long 
Shall  time  me  sunder 
From  that  dear  throne  ? 


'fc> 


No  weeping  yonder ! 
All  fled  away  ; 
While  here  I  wander 
Each  weary  day, 
And  sigh  as  I  ponder 
My  long,  long  stay. 

No  partings  yonder ! 
Time  and  space  never 
Again  shall  sunder; 
Hearts  cannot  sever; 
Dearer  and  fonder 
Hands  clasp  forever. 

None  wanting  yonder, 
Bought  by  the  Lamb  ! 
All  gathered  under 
The  evergreen  palm  ; 
Loud  as  night  thunder 
Ascends  the  glad  psalm. 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN.  589 


AS  WHEN  THE  TRAVELLER  GAINS. 


John  Newton. 


AS  when  the  weary  traveller  gains 
The  height  of  some  overlooking  hill, 
His  heart  revives,  if  'cross  the  plains 
He  eyes  his  home,  though  distant  still. 

While  he  surveys  the  much-loved  spot 
He  slights  the  space  that  lies  between ; 

His  past  fatigues  are  now  forgot, 
Because  his  journey's  end  is  seen. 

Thus  when  the  Christian  pilgrim  views 
By  faith  his  mansion  in  the  skies, 

The  sight  his  fainting  strength  renews, 
And  wings  his  speed  to  reach  the  prize. 

The  thought  of  home  his  spirit  cheers ; 

No  more  he  grieves  for  troubles  past, 
Nor  any  future  trial  fears 

So  he  may  safe  arrive  at  last. 

'Tis  there,  he  says,  I  am  to  dwell 
With  Jesus  in  the  realms  of  day  ; 

Then  I  shall  bid  my  cares  farewell. 
And  He  shall  wipe  my  tears  away. 


590  HEAVEN    IN    SONG. 

Jesus,  on  Thee  our  hope  depends, 
To  lead  us  on  to  Thine  abode  : 

Assured  our  home  will  make  amends 
For  all  our  toil  while  on  the  road. 


HERE  IN  THE  BODY  PENT. 


James  Montgomery. 


FOREVER  with  the  Lord  ! 
Amen  ;  so  let  it  be  ; 
Life  from  the  dead  is  in  that  word, 
'Tis  immortality. 

Here  in  the  body  pent, 
Absent  from  Him  I  roam, 
Yet  nightly  pitch  my  moving  tent 
A  day's  march  nearer  home. 

My  Father's  house  on  high, 
Home  of  my  soul,  how  near, 
At  times,,  to  faith's  far-seeing  eye, 
Thy  golden  gates  appear! 

Ah  !  then  my  spirit  faints 
To  reach  the  land  I  love. 
The  bright  inheritance  of  saints, 
Jerusalem  above. 

Yet  clouds  will  intervene, 
And  all  my  prospect  flies. 
Like  Noah's  dove,  I  flit  between 
Rough  seas  and  stormy  skies. 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN.  SQI 

Anon  the  clouds  depart, 

The  winds  and  waters  cease, 
While  sweetly  o'er  my  gladdened  heart, 
Expands  the  bow  of  peace. 


THE  ANGEL  AT  THE  GATE. 


C.  F.  Borrows. 


"  This  g^te  of  the  Lord,  into  which  the  righteous  shall  enter." 

THERE'S   a  gate   at  the  close  of  the  pathway  of 
light 
That  leads,  it  is  said,  to  the  land  of  the  blest ; 
But  the  mists  hide  the  country  beyond  from  our  sight. 

And  over  the  portal  is  written  ''  rest ;" 
And  an  angel  with  folded  wings  doth  wait 
At  the  gate,  at  the  gate. 

Those  most  beloved  we  have  seen  draw  nigh, 
Till  the  portal's  shadow  is  over  them  cast, 

And  the  angel  has  opened  the  gate  with  a  sigh. 

And  away,  like  a  beautiful  dream,  they  have  passed. 

In  vain  have  we  watched  for  them,  early  and  late, 
At  the  gate,  at  the  gate. 

We  have  stretched  out  our  hands  to  clasp  theirs  once 
again  ; 
We  have  sought  for  those  eyes  that  have  answered 
our  own  : 
We've  called  on  each  loved  name,  so  fondly,  and  then 
We  have  waited  in  vair    or  a  look  or  a  tone. 


592  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

And  we've  mourned,  as  the  lost  dove  mourns  for  its 
mate, 
At  the  gate,  at  the  gate. 

And  we  know  that  we,  too,  soon  the  portal  shall  gain, 
And  in  the  dark  shadow  shall  lingering  stand  ; 

Our  eyes  gazing  back  on  Hfe's  pleasure  and  pain. 
But  our  hands  stretching  out  to  that  radiant  land. 

We  shall  linger,  it  matters  not  sooner  or  late, 
At  the  gate,  at  the  gate. 

And  the  angel  will  open  the  gate,  and  will  guide 
Our  wandering  feet  to  the  country  of  peace  ; 

And  with  those  we  have  loved  we  shall  ever  abide, 
And  all  our  lone  waitings,  and  watchings,  shall  cease 

Where  the  angel  with  folded  wing  doth  wait, 
At  the  gate,  at  the  gate. 


O  WEARY  HALTING  PILGRIM. 


Anonymous. 


'Thine  eyes  shall  see  the  King  in  his  beauty ;  they  shall  behold  the  land  that  is 
very  far  off." 

OH,  weary,  halting  pilgrim, 
Haste  to  thy  quiet  rest ; 
The  sands  of  Hfe  are  sinking. 
Hie  to  thy  mountain  nest ! 
See  yonder  sunset  glory, 
Telling  the  wondrous  story 
Of  ages  grey  and  hoary ! 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN.  593 

Soon  shalt  thou  reach  that  country 

Where  shine  the  golden  hills  ; 
Where,  through  the  still,  green  pastures, 
GHde  softly-murmuring  rills ; 

Yonder,  pure  airs  are  blowing ; 
Fresh,  gladsome  streams  are  flowing, 
And  radiant  sunshine  glowing. 

There  winds  the  chill,  dark  river, 

Whose  stern,  relentless  flow 
Beareth  each  soul  full  surely 
To  endless  bliss  or  woe  ; 

There  shall  be  cooled  life's  fever ; 
'Neath  Jordan's  waves  forever. 
From  pain  and  sin  we  sever. 

Just  on  the  further  border 

Of  Death's  swift  flowing  tide 
Riseth  the  holy  city. 
Glorious  on  every  side  ! 

Of  pearls,  and  jasper  fairest. 

And  chrysolite  the  rarest. 

The  crown  of  light  thou  wearest. 

From  yonder  crystal  portals. 

Where  gleams  eternal  light, 

The  King  sends  forth  his  angel 

To  Beulah's  sunny  height  ; 

Nearer  the  river  streameth, 
Clearer  the  glory  beameth, 
Fairer  the  city  gleameth  ! 
38 


594  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Swiftly  the  white-robed  angel, 

With  noiseless,  winged  touch, 
Giveth  the  welcome  summons  ; 
"  *  The  Lord  hath  need  of  such  ! ' 

Hear  what  thy  King  hath  spoken  ; 
Behold  the  royal  token — 
The  golden  bowl  is  broken  !  " 

The  silver  cord  is  loosened, 

Shattered  the  earthly  shrine ; 
But  Beulah's  hill-tops  echo 
With  rhapsody  divine  ; 

In  heaven  no  sin  or  sighing, 
No  pain,  nor  any  dying  ; 
Angels  with  seraphs  vieing. 

See  !  where  the  glory  streameth 

Upon  the  farther  shore  ; 
Bright  shining  ones  are  hymning 
The  song  of  ages  hoar  ! 

In  Salem's  temple  dwelling. 
The  olden  story  telling. 
The  eternal  chorus  swelling. 
For  ever,  evermore ! 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN.  595 


CHRIST,  LET  ME  COME  TO  THEE. 

"  Bid  me  come  unto  Thee." 

CHRIST,  let  me  come  to  Thee! 
My  heart  is  weary,  and  I  long  for  rest. 
Is  not  my  earthly  mission  well  nigh  done  ? 
I  cannot  bear  this  burden  on  my  breast — 

It  weighs  my  spirit  downward  like  a  stone. 
My  saddened  life  is  ever  veiled  in  clouds, 

And  midnight  darkness  hath  come  o'er  my  soul. 
My  once  bright  hopes  are  wrapped  away  in  shrouds, 
And  sorrow's  heavy  surges  round  me  roll. 
Sweet  Christ  ?  oh,  may  I  come  ? 

Christ,  let  me  come  to  Thee  ! 
Life  hath  a  dark  Sahara  been  to  me  ! 

The  few  bright  flowers  that  bloomed  along  my  way 
Were  soon  transplanted — each  beloved  tree 

To  bloom  perennial  in  the  "  perfect  day." 
My  dear  loved  ones  sit  round  Thy  Golden  Throne 

And  wait — a  broken  circle — till  I  come  ; 
Let  me  not  linger  here  on  earth  alone — 

Oh,  let  me  join  them  in  their  heavenly  home  ! 
Sweet  Christ !  oh,  may  I  come  ? 

Christ,  let  me  come  to  Thee  ! 
Behind  me  roars  the  angry  ocean  tide  ; 

Each  crested  wave  comes  nearer,  nearer  still ; 
The  muttering  thunders  in  the  billows  hide — 

I  shudder  at  their  hoarse,  loud  voice  so  chill ; 


596  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

I  cannot  meet  the  fierce,  wild  storn:i  of  Life  ! 

I  have  no  strength  to  battle  with  it  more ! 
Too  long  I've  wrestled  in  the  painful  strife, 

I  must  lay  down  the  burden  that  I  bore. 
Sweet  Christ !  oh,  may  I  come? 

Christ,  let  me  come  to  Thee! 
In  dreams  I  hear  Thy  white-robed  angels  sing 

The  golden  glories  of  their  beauteous  land  ; 
I  hear  the  rustle  of  each  snowy  wing. 

And  feel  their  touch  upon  my  fevered  hand. 
Colder  than  ever  seems  the  earth  to  me. 

When  I  awake  and  see  them  flit  away  ; 
I  strain  my  eyes  the  last  bright  glimpse  to  see, 

And  watch  them  vanish  through  the  gates  of  day. 

Sweet  Christ !  oh,  may  I  come  ? 

-^ 

Christ,  let  me  come  to  Thee  ! 
I  watch  my  toiling  breath  grow  faint  and  slow  ; 

I  note  the  hectic  deepening  day  by  day, 
And  feel  my  life  is  like  a  wreath  of  snow. 

Which  one  kind  breath  of  heaven  would  melt  away. 
A  little  longer  in  this  world  of  vice — 

The  wished-for  boundary  is  almost  passed — 
I  see  the  shining  shore  of  Paradise, 

I  know  my  pain  is  almost  o'er  at  last. 
Sweet  Christ !  oh,  let  me  come  ! 

Christ,  let  me  come  to  Thee  ! 
I've  seen  the  gates  that  guard  Thy  holy  chme, 

And  often  caught  a  gleam  within  ; 
I  know  they'll  open  in  Thine  own  good  time, 

And  let  Thy  weary  wandering  child  come  in. 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN.  59/ 

I've  had,  all  through  this  weary  care  and  pain, 
One  blessed  hope,  that  ne'er  has  known  despair — 

It  cheers  me  like  the  sunshine  after  rain  ! 

I  know  Thou'lt  hear  my  deep  and  heartfelt  prayer, 
And  let  me  come  to  Thee ! 


LORD  GOD,  NOW  OPEN  WIDE  THY  HEAVEN. 


from  the  German  of  T.  Kiel  by  Catherine  Winkworth. 


LORD  God,  now  open  wide  Thy  heaven, 
My  parting  hour  is  near  ; 
My  course  is  run,  enough  I've  striven, 
Enough  I've  suffered  here  ; 
Weary  and  sad 
My  soul  is  glad 
That  she  may  lay  her  down  to  rest ; 
Now  all  on  earth  I  can  resign, 
But  only  let  Thy  heaven  be  mine. 

As  Thou,  Lord,  hast  commanded  me, 

Have  I  with  perfect  faith 
Embraced  my  Saviour,  and  to  Thee 
I  calmly  look  in  death ; 

With  willing  heart 
I  hence  depart, 
I  hope  to  stand  before  Thy  face : 
Yes,  all  on  earth  I  can  resign, 
If  but  Thy  heaven  at  last  be  mine. 


59^  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Then  let  me  go  like  Simeon 

In  peace  with  Thee  to  dwell, 
For  I  commend  me  to  Thy  Son, 
And  He  will  guard  me  well, 
And  guide  me  straight 
To  the  golden  gate  ; 
And  in  this  hope  I  calmly  die ; 
Yes,  all  on  earth  I  can  resign, 
If  but  Thy  heaven  may  now  be  mine. 


WHEN  AT  LAST  THE  HOUR  IS  COME. 


From  the  German  of  Spener,   by  Catherine  Winkworth. 


WHEN  now  at  last  the  hour  is  come, 
That  I  have  long'd  for  many  a  time. 
When  God  with  joy  should  call  me  home 

From  this  strange  land,  this  wintry  clime  ; 
Thy  victim,  Death,  escapes  no  more, 
The  hour  draws  on  when  I  shall  be 
From  all  the  bonds  of  earth  set  free. 
And  life's  long  battle  shall  be  o'er. 

To  combat  for  His  glory  here 

The  Father  sent  me  forth  ; — and  lo  ! 

The  hour  of  victory  draws  near, 
And  conquered  now  is  every  foe  ; 

And  I  have  borne  me  in  the  strife 
As  true  and  fearless  warriors  ought, 
And  bravely  to  the  last  have  fought 

Through  all  the  wars  and  woes  of  life. 


WAITING  FOR   HEAVEN.  599 

My  cry,  when  rough  the  march  and  dark, 
Was,  watch  and  strive  till  thou  hast  won, 

Press  forward  fearless  to  the  mark  ! 
As  now,  thank  God,  at  last  I've  done. 

Now  it  is  o'er,  I  cannot  miss  ; 

Through  every  danger  to  the  death 
True  to  my  Lord  I've  kept  the  faith, 

And  freely  risk'd  all  else  for  this. 

It  lacketh  now  a  few  short  hours. 

And  I  am  in  eternity  ; 
The  wreath  of  fadeless  heavenly  flowers 

Is  wound  already  there  for  me. 
The  crown  is  waiting  for  me  there, 

Until  the  fight  is  wholly  fought, 

And  all  my  soul  is  thither  caught. 
Where  shining  palms  the  conquerors  bear. 

But  when  that  morning  shall  appear. 

When  our.  great  Judge,  the  Son  of  God, 
Shall  give  to  those  who  loved  Him  here 

Their  gracious  undeserved  reward, 
Then  in  the  glorious  halls  above, 

I  too  among  that  host  shall  stand, 

And  take  from  His  all-faithful  hand 
The  crown  of  righteousness  and  love. 

Nor  shall  I  yonder  stand  alone, 

I  see  the  crowned  host  appear, 
The  mighty  host  before  His  throne, 

Who  shine  for  ever  pure  and  clear, 


600  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

The  souls  of  those,  who  on  their  way 
Were  longing  hour  by  hour  here, 
With  burning  love,  and  many  a  tear, 

To  see  the  glories  of  that  Day. 


THE  HOME  SICKNESS. 


HORATIUS   BONAR. 


"  O  civitas  sancta  civitas  speciosa,  de  longinquo  te  saluto,   ad   te  clamo,  te  re- 
quire."— Augustine,  De  Spir.  et  Anim. 

AND  Whence  this  weariness, 
This  gathering  cloud  of  gloom  ? 
Whence  this  dull  weight  of  loneliness, 

These  greedy  cravings  for  the  tomb  ? 
These  greedier  cravings  for  the  hopes  that  lie 
Beyond  the  tomb,  beyond  the  things  that  die  ; 
Beyond  the  smiles  and  joys  that  come  and  go, 
Fevering  the  spirit  with  their  fitful  flow; 
Beyond  the  circle  where  the  shadows  fall ; 
Within  the  region  where  my  God  is  all. 

It  is  not  that  I  fear 

To  breast  the  storm  or  wrestle  with  the  wave. 
To  swim  the  torrent  or  the  blast  to  brave, 
To  toil  or  suffer  in  this  day  of  strife 
As  He  may  will  who  gav^e  this  struggling  life, — 

But  I  am  homesick! 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN.  6oi 

It  is  not  that  the  cross 

Is  heavier  than  this  drooping  frame  can  bear, 
Or  that  I  find  no  kindred  heart  to  share 
The  burden,  which,  in  these  last  days  of  ill, 
Seems  to  press  heavier,  sharper,  sorer  still, — 

But  I  am  homesick! 

It  is  not  that  the  snare 

Is  laid  around  for  my  unwary  feet, 
And  that  a  thousand  wily  tempters  greet 
My  slippery  steps  and  lead  me  far  astray 
From  that  safe  guidance  of  the  narrow  way, — 

But  I  am  homesick ! 

It  is  not  that  the  path 

Is  rough  and  perilous,  beset  with  foes, 
From  the  first  step  down  to  its  weary  close, 
Strewn  with  the  flint,  the  briar,  and  the  thorn, 
That  wound  my  Hmbs  and  leave  my  raiment  torn, 

But  I  am  homesick  ! 

It  is  not  that  the  sky 

Is  darkly  sad,  and  the  unloving  air 
Chills  me  to  fainting ;  and  the  clouds  that  there 
Hang  over  me  seem  signal  clouds  unfurled, 
Portending  wrath  to  an  unready  world, — 

But  I  am  homesick  ! 

It  is  not  that  the  earth 

Has  grown  less  bright  and  fair, — that  these  grey 

hills, 
These  ever-lapsing,  ever-lulling  rills, 


602  HEAVEN   IN    SONG. 

And  these  breeze-haunted  woods,  that  ocean  clear, 
Have  now  become  less  beautiful,  less  dear, — 
But  I  am  homesick ! 

Let  me,  then,  weary  be  ! 

I  shrink  not, — murmur  not ; 
In  all  this  homelessness  I  see 

The  Church's  pilgrim-lot ; 
Her  lot  until  her  absent  Lord  shall  come, 
And  the  long  homeless  here,  shall  find  a  home, 

Then  no  more  weariness  ! 

No  gathering  cloud  of  gloom  ; 
Then  no  dull  weight  of  loneliness, 

No  greedy  cravings  for  the  tomb : 
For  death  shall  then  be  swallowed  up  of  life. 
And  the  glad  victory  shall  end  the  strife ! 


WORLD  FAREWELL,  OF   THEE    FM   TIRED. 


From   the  German  of  J.  G.  Albinos,   by  Catherine  Winkworth. 


WORLD,  farewell !     Of  thee  I'm  tired, 
Now  toward  heaven  my  way  I  take  ; 
There  is  peace  the  long-desired, 

Lofty  calm  that  nought  can  break  ; 
World,  with  thee  is  war  and  strife, 
Thou  with  cheating  hopes  art  rife, 
But  in  heaven  is  no  alloy. 
Only  peace  and  love  and  joy. 


WAITING   FOR  HEAVEN.  603 

When  I  reach  that  home  of  gladness, 

I  shall  feel  no  more  this  load, 
Feel  no  sickness,  want,  or  sadness, 

Resting  in  the  arms  of  God. 
In  the  world  woes  follow  fast, 
And  a  bitter  death  comes  last. 
But  in  heaven  shall  nought  destroy 
Endless  peace  and  love  and  joy. 

What  are  earthly  joys  ?  a  weary 

Chase  of  mist,  or  wind-borne  foam  ! 
On  this  desert  black  and  dreary 

Sins  and  vices  have  their  home  ; 
Thine,  O  World,  are  war  and  strife, 
Mocking  pleasures,  dying  life  ; 
But  in  heaven  is  no  annoy, 
Only  peace  and  love  and  joy. 

Oh  the  music  and  the  singing 

Of  the  host  redeemed  by  love! 
Oh  the  hallelujahs  ringing 

Through  the  halls  of  light  above  ! 
Thine,  O  World,  the  scornful  sneer, 
Misery  thy  reward,  and  fear  ; 
But  in  heaven  is  no  annoy. 
Only  peace  and  love  and  joy. 

Here  is  nought  but  care  and  mourning, 

Comes  a  joy,  it  will  not  stay ; 
Fairly  shines  the  sun  at  dawning. 

Night  will  soon  o'ercloud  the  day  ; 


604  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

World,  with  thee  we  weep  and  pine, 
Gnawing  care  and  grief  are  thine  ; 
But  in  heaven  is  no  alloy, 
Only  peace  and  love  and  joy. 

Onwards  then  !  not  long  I  wander, 

Ere  my  Saviour  comes  for  me, 
And  with  Him  abiding  yonder 

All  His  glory  I  shall  see  ; 
For  there's  nought  but  sorrow  here. 
Toil  and  pain  and  many  a  fear. 
But  in  heaven  is  no  annoy. 
Only  peace  and  love  and  joy. 

Well  for  him  whom  death  has  landed 

Safely  on  yon  blessed  shore, 
Where  in  joyful  worship  banded. 

Sing  the  faithful  evermore  ; 
For  the  world  hath  strife  and  war, 
All  her  works  and  hopes  they  mar. 
But  in  heaven  is  no  annoy, 
Only  peace  and  love  and  joy. 

Time,  thou  speedest  on  but  slowly, 

Hours,  how  tardy  is  your  pace, 
Ere  with  Him  the  High  and  Holy 

I  hold  converse  face  to  fact ; 
World,  with  partings  thou  art  rife, 
Filled  with  tears  and  storms  and  strife, 
But  in  heaven  can  nought  destroy, 
Endless  peace  and  love  and  joy. 


WAITING   FOR    HEAVEN.  605 

Therefore  will  I  now  prepare  me, 
That  my  work  may  stand  His  doom, 

And  when  all  is  sinking  round  me, 
I  may  hear  not  ''  Go"— but  ''  Come !  " 

World,  the  voice  of  grief  is  here, 

Outward  seeming,  care,  and  fear, 

But  in  heaven  is  no  alloy, 

Only  peace  and  love  and  joy  ! 


WHAT   NOW  WE  KNOW  NOT  THEN  TO 
KNOW. 


Anonymous. 


WHEN  Israel  reached  their  homes  at  last. 
And  'neath  their  vines  and  fig-trees  lay. 
How  sweetly,  all  their  perils  past. 

Must  they  have  mused  upon  God's  way  ! 
What  at  the  time  seemed  hard  to  bear 
Then  could  they  clearly  understand  ; 
And  how  a  Father's  love  and  care 

Each  portion  of  their  wanderings  planned. 

Thus,  if  we  reach  that  heavenly  place, 
No  snare  to  fear,  no  wars  to  wage. 

Then  shall  we  see  how  heavenly  grace 
Led  us  throughout  our  pilgrimage  : 


6o6  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

How  needful  was  each  care  and  cross  ; 

How  wisely  our  own  way  denied  ; 
How  mercy  shielded  us  from  loss  ; 

How  right  the  way,  how  true  the  Guide. 

How  sweet  to  understand  His  way; 

What  now  we  know  not  then  to  know  ; 
And  yield  the  tribute  of  our  praise 

For  what  mysterious  seemed  below  ! 
Lord,  lead  us  to  that  place  of  rest, 

And  from  our  own  fond  will  defend  : 
Thou  knowest  what  for  us  is  best, 

Who  knowest  both  the  way  and  end. 


A   FEW  MORE  YEARS  SHALL  ROLL. 


HORATIUS    BONAR. 


A  FEW  more  years  shall  roll, 
A  few  more  seasons  come, 
And  we  shall  be  with  those  that  rest 

Asleep  within  the  tomb. 
Then,  O  my  Lord,  prepare 

My  soul  for  that  great  day  ; 
Oh  wash  me  in  Thy  precious  blood, 
And  take  my  sins  away  ! 

A  few  more  suns  shall  set 
O'er  these  dark  hills  of  time, 

And  we  shall  be  where  suns  are  not, 
A  far  serener  clime. 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN.  60/ 

Then,  O  my  Lord,  prepare 

My  soul  for  that  blest  day  ; 
Oh  wash  me  in  Thy  precious  blood, 

And  take  my  sins  away ! 

A  few  more  storms  shall  beat 

On  this  wild,  rocky  shore, 
And  we  shall  be  where  tempests  cease, 

And  surges  swell  no  more. 
Then,  O  my  Lord,  prepare 

My  soul  for  that  calm  day ; 
Oh  wash  me  in  Thy  precious  blood, 

And  take  my  sins  away. 

A  few  more  struggles  here, 

A  few  more  partings  o'er, 
A  few  more  toils,  a  few  more  tears, 

And  we  shall  weep  no  more. 
Then,  O  my  Lord,  prepare 

My  soul  for  that  blest  day ; 
Oh  wash  me  in  Thy  precious  blood, 

And  take  my  sins  away. 

A  few  more  Sabbaths  here 

Shall  cheer  us  on  our  way, 
And  we  shall  reach  the  endless  rest, 

The  eternal  Sabbath-day. 
Then,  O  my  Lord,  prepare 

My  soul  for  that  sweet  day ; 
Oh  wash  me  in  Thy  precious  blood, 

And  take  my  sins  away. 


6o8  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

'Tis  but  a  little  while, 

And  He  shall  come  again 
Who  died  that  we  might  live,  who  lives 

That  we  with  him  may  reign. 
Then,  O  my  Lord,  prepare 

My  soul  for  that  glad  day ; 
Oh  wash  me  in  Thy  precious  blood, 

And  take  my  sins  away. 


THERE  MAY  WE  OUR  TREASURE  PLACE. 


James  Montgomery. 


*♦  Our  Conversation  is  in  Heaven." 

WHILE  through  this  changing  world  we  roam, 
From  infancy  to  age, 
Heaven  is  the  Christian  pilgrim's  home, 
His  rest  at  every  stage. 

Thither  his  raptured  thought  ascends, 

Eternal  joys  to  share  ; 
There  his  adoring  spirit  bends, 

While  here  he  kneels  in  prayer. 

From  earth  his  freed  affections  rise 

To  fix  on  things  above. 
Where  all  his  hope  of  glory  lies, 

And  love  is  perfect  love. 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN.  609 


Oh,  there  may  we  our  treasure  place  ! 

There  let  our  hearts  be  found, 
That  still  where  sin  abounded,  grace 

May  more  and  more  abound  ! 

Henceforth  our  conversation  be 
With  Christ  before  the  throne : 

Ere  long  we  eye,  to  eye  shall  see, 
And  know  as  we  are  known. 


THE  SANDS  OF  TIME  ARE  SINKING. 


Samuel  Rutherford. 


[The  author's  last  words  were,  "  Glory,  glory,  dwelleth  in  Immanuel's  land  I  "    The 
sentiments,  and  many  of  the  expressions,  are  his ;  the  poetry  is  by  another  hand.] 

THE  sands  of  time  are  sinking. 
The  dawn  of  heaven  breaks  ; 
The  summer  morn  I've  sighed  for — 

The  fair,  sweet  morn — awakes. 
Dark,  dark,  hath  been  the  midnight : 

But  dayspring  is  at  hand  ; 
And  glory,  glory,  dwelleth 
In  Immanuel's  land. 

There  the  red  Rose  of  Sharon 

Unfolds  its  heartmost  bloom, 
And  fills  the  air  of  heaven 
With  ravishing  perfume. 
39 


6lO  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Oh  !  to  behold  it  blossom, 

While  by  its  fragrance  fanned, 

Where  glor^^,  glory,  dwelleth, 
In  Immanuel's  land  ! 

The  King  there,  in  his  beauty, 

Without  a  veil  is  seen  : 
"  It  were  a  well-spent  journey. 

Though  seven  deaths  lay  between." 
The  Lamb,  with  his  fair  army, 

Doth  on  Mount  Zion  stand  ; 
And  glory,  glory,  dwelleth 

In  Immanuel's  land. 

O  Christ !  he  is  the  fountain, 

The  deep,  sweet  well  of  love. 
The  streams  on  earth  I've  tasted, 

More  deep  I'll  drink  above. 
There  to  an  ocean  fulness 

His  mercy  doth  expand  ; 
And  glory,  glory,  dwelleth 

In  Immanuel's  land. 

Fair  Anworth  by  the  Solway, 

To  me  thou  art  still  dear  : 
E'en  from  the  verge  of  heaven, 

I  drop  for  thee  a  tear. 
Oh  !  if  one  soul  from  Anworth 

Meet  me  at  God's  right  hand, 
My  heaven  will  be  two  heavens 

In  Immanuel's  land  ! 


WAITING   FOR    HEAVEN.  6ll 

I've  wrestled  on  towards  heaven, 

'Gainst  storm  and  wind  and  tide  : 
Now  like  a  weary  traveller 

That  leaneth  on  his  guide, 
Amid  the  shades  of  evening, 

While  sinks  life's  lingering  sand, 
I  hail  the  glory  dawning 

From  Immanuel's  land. 

With  mercy  and  with  judgment 

My  web  of  time  he  wove, 
And  aye  the  dews  of  sorrow 

Were  lustred  with  his  love. 
I'll  bless  the  hand  that  guided, 

I'll  bless  the  heart  that  planned, 
When  throned  where  glory  dwelleth. 

In  Immanuel's  land. 

The  bride  eyes  not  her  garments, 

But  her  dear  bridegroom's  face : 
I  will  not  gaze  at  glory, 

But  at  my  King  of  grace  ; 
Not  at  the  crown  he  giveth, 

But  on  his  pierced  hand. 
The  Lamb  is  all  the  glory 

Of  Immanuel's  land. 


6l2  HEAVEN    IN    SONG. 


WANDERING  DOWN  LIFE'S  PATH. 


HORATIUS   BONAR. 


I  AM  wandering  down  life's  shady  path, 
Slowly,  slowly,  wandering  down  ; 
I  am  wandering  down  life's  rugged  path, 
Slowly,  slowly,  wandering  down. 

Morn,  with  its  store  of  buds  and  dew, 

Lies  far  behind  me  now  ; 
Morn,  with  its  wealth  of  song  and  light, 

Lies  far  behind  me  now. 

'Tis  the  mellow  flush  of  sunset  now, 
*Tis  the  shadow  and  the  cloud  ; 

'Tis  the  dimness  of  the  dying  eve, 
'Tis  the  shadow  and  the  cloud. 

'Tis  the  dreamy  haze  of  twilight  now,     ^ 

'Tis  the  hour  of  silent  trust  ; 
'Tis  the  solemn  hue  of  fading  skies, 

'Tis  the  time  of  tranquil  trust. 

The  pleasant  heights  of  breezy  life, 
The  pleasant  heights  are  past ; 

The  sunny  slopes  of  buoyant  life, 
The  sunny  slopes  are  past. 


WAITING   FOR    HEAVEN.  613 

I  shall  rest  in  yon  low  valley  soon, 

There  to  sleep  my  toil  away  ; 
I  shall  rest  in  yon  sweet  valley  soon, 

There  to  sleep  my  tears  away. 

One  little  hour  will  soothe  away 

Time's  months  of  care  and  pain  ; 
One  quiet  hour  will  dream  away 

Time's  years  of  care  and  pain. 

Laid  side  by  side  with  those  I  love, 

How  calm  that  rest  shall  be  ! 
Laid  side  by  side  with  those  I  love, 

How  soft  that  sleep  shall  be  ! 

I  shall  rise  and  put  on  glory 

When  the  great  morn  shall  dawn  ; 

I  shall  rise  and  put  on  beauty 
When  the  glad  morn  shall  dawn. 

I  shall  mount  to  yon  fair  city, 

The  dwelling  of  the  blest  ; 
I  shall  enter  yon  bright  city, 

The  palace  of  the  blest. 

1  shall  meet  the  many  parted  ones, 

In  that  one  home  of  joy  ; 
Lost  love  forever  found  again. 

In  that  dear  home  of  joy. 

We  have  shared  our  earthly  sorrow, 

Each  with  the  other  here  ; 
We  shall  share  our  heavenly  gladness. 

Each  with  the  other  there. 


6l4  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

We  have  mingled  tears  together, 
We  shall  mingle  smiles  and  song  ; 

We  have  mingled  sighs  together, 
We  shall  mingle  smiles  and  song. 


I  CAN  TARRY  BUT  A  NIGHT. 


Mary  S.  B.  Dana. 


"  They  were  strangers  and  pilgrims." 

I'M  a  pilgrim,  and  I'm  a  stranger : 
I  can  tarry,  I  can  tarry  but  a  night. 
Do  not  detain  me;  for  I  am  going 
To  where  the  streamlets  are  ever  flowing. 

There  the  sunbeams  are  ever  shining  : 
I  am  longing,  I  am  longing,  for  the  sight. 
Within  a  country  unknown  and  dreary, 
I  have  been  wandering  forlorn  and  weary. 

Of  that  country  to  which  I  am  going. 
My  Redeemer,  my  Redeemer,  is  the  light 
There  is  no  sorrow,  nor  any  sighing. 
Nor  any  sin  there,  nor  any  dying. 


WAITING   FOR   HEAVEN.  615 


A  LITTLE  LONGER  STILL,  BELOVED. 


Adelaide  A.  Proctor. 


A  LITTLE  longer  still, — patience,  beloved  ! — • 
A  little  longer  still,  ere  Heaven  unroll 
The  glory,  and  the  brightness,  and  the  wonder, 
Eternal  and  divine,  that  waits  thy  soul. 

A  little  longer  ere  life  true,  immortal, — 

Not  this  our  shadowy  Hfe, — will  be  thine  own, 

And   thou   shalt  stand  where  winged  archangels  wor- 
ship. 
And  trembling  bow  before  the  great  white  throne. 

A  little  longer  still,  and  heaven  awaits  thee, 
And  fills  thy  spirit  with  a  great  delight  ; 

Then  our  pale  joys  will  seem  a  dream  forgotten. 
Our  sun  a  darkness,  and  our  day  a  night. 

A  Httle  longer,  and  thy  heart,  beloved, 

Shall  beat  forever  with  a  love  divine  ; 
And  joy  so  pure,  so  mighty,  so  eternal, 

No  creature  knows  and  lives,  will  then  be  thine. 

A  little  longer  yet,  and  angel  voices 

Shall  ring  in  heavenly  chant  upon  thine  ear ; 

Angels  and  saints  await  thee,  and  God  needs  thee  ; 
Beloved,  can  we  bid  thee  linger  here  ? 


WAY   TO    HEAVEN. 


For  I  reckon  that  the  sufferings  of  this  present  time  are  not  worthy  to  be  com- 
pared with  the  glory  which  shall  be  revealed  in  us.— Rom.  8  :  i8. 

If  we  suffer,  we  shall  also  reign  with  him. — 2  Tim.  3  :  12. 

He  that  overcometh  shall  inherit  all  things. — Rev.  31  :  7. 

Blessed  are  they  that  do  his  commandments,  that  they  may  have  right  to  the 
tree  of  life,  and  may  enter  in  through  the  gates  into  the  city. — Rev.  22  :  14. 


THE  WAY  TO  HEAVEN, 


NO!  NO!  IT  IS  NOT  DYING. 


From  the  German  of  Gerhardt. 


NO  !  no  !     It  is  not  dying 
To  Jesus'  self  to  go  ; 
The  gloom  of  earth  forsaking, 
In  one's  pure  home  awaking, 
Should  give  no  pang  of  woe. 

No!  no!  It  is  not  dying, 
In  heaven  at  last  to  dwell ; 

In  the  eternal  glory 

Of  crown  and  harp  and  story 
Our  earthly  fears  to  quell. 

No  !  no  !     It  is  not  dying, 

To  hear  the  gracious  tone 
Of  the  Almighty,  saying, 
''  Come,  child,  wherever  staying, 
Behold  me  on  the  throne  ! '' 

No  !  no  !     It  is  not  dying, 

To  leave  this  world  of  strife, 
And  seek  that  blessed  river, 
Where  Christ  shall  lead  forever. 
His  sheep  'neath  trees  of  life. 


620  HEAVEN    IN    SONG. 

No  !  no  !     It  is  not  dying, 
With  lordly  glory  crown'd, 

To  join  in  the  thanksgiving 

To  Him,  the  ever  living. 

With  which  the  heavens  resound. 

O  no !  it  is  not  dying, 

Thou  Saviour  of  Thine  own  ! 
There,  from  the  font  Eternal, 
Gush  life  and  joy  supernal ! 
Here  there  are  drops  alone. 


COME  BROTHERS  LET  US  ONWARD. 


Gerhard    Tersthgen.    • 


COME,  brothers,  let  us  onward- 
Night  comes  without  delay, 
And  in  this  howhng  desert 
It  is  not  good  to  stay. 
Take  courage,  and  be  strong. 
We  are  hasting  on  to  Heaven  ; 
Strength  for  warfare  will  be  given. 
And  glory  won  ere  long. 

The  Pilgrim's  path  of  trial 
We  do  not  fear  to  view ; 

We  know  His  voice  who  calls  us, 
We  know  Him  to  be  true. 


THE   WAY   TO   HEAVEN.  62 1 

Then,  let  who  will  contemn  ; — • 
Strong  in  His  Almighty  grace, 
Come,  every  one,  with  steadfast  face 

On  to  Jerusalem ! 

Here,  all  unknown  we  wander, 

Despised  on  every  hand  ; 
Unnoticed,  save  when  slighted — 

As  strangers  in  the  land. 

Our  joys  they  will  not  share — 
Yet  sing,  that  they  may  catch  the  song 
Of  Heaven,  and  the  happy  throng 

That  now  awaits  us  there  I 

Come,  gladly,  let  us  onward — 

Hand  in  hand  still  go, 
Each  helping  one  another 

Through  all  the  way  below. 

One  family  of  love, — 
Oh,  let  no  voice  of  strife  be  heard, 
No  discord,  by  the  angel-gUard 

Who  watch  us  from  above  ! 

O  brothers  !  soon  is  ended 

The  journey  we've  begun — 
Endure  a  little  longer. 

The  race  will  soon  be  won  ! 

And  in  the  land  of  rest. 
In  yonder  bright,  eternal  home, 
Where  all  the  Father's  loved  ones  come, 

We  shall  be  safe  and  blest ! 


622  HEAVEN    IN   SONG.* 


HOMEWARD  IN  SONG. 

[Wesley  directed  that  a  joyful  hj'mn  be  sung  when  he  should  have  breathed  his  last.] 

OSING  to  me  of  heaven, 
When  I  am  called  to  die  ; 
Sing  songs  of  holy  ecstasy, 
To  waft  my  soul  on  high. 

When  cold  and  sluggish  drops 

Roll  off  my  marble  brow. 
Burst  forth  in  strains  of  joyfulness, — 

Let  heaven  begin  below. 

When  the  last  moment  comes, 

O,  watch  my  dying  face. 
And  catch  the  bright,  seraphic  gleam 

Which  o'er  my  features  plays. 

Then  to  my  ravished  ears 

Let  one  sweet  song  be  given ; 
Let  music  charm  me  last  on  earth, 

And  greet  me  first  in  heaven. 

Then  close  my  sightless  eyes. 

And  lay  me  down  to  rest, 
And  clasp  my  cold  and  icy  hands        ^ 

Upon  my  lifeless  breast. 

Then  round  my  senseless  clay 

Assemble  those  I  love, 
And  sing  of  heaven,  delightful  heaven, 

My  glorious  home  above  ! 


THE   WAY   TO   HEAVEN.  623 


ONLY  ONE  CROSSING  OVER. 


Anonymous. 


ONLY  one  crossing  over 
Waters  all  dark  and  wide  : 
Storms  on  the  fearful  billows, 

Peace  on  the  other  side. 
Only  one  scene  of  anguish, 

Sorrow  in  sad  words  told  ; 
Then  a  soft  sound  of  singing, 
Softened  by  harps  of  gold. 

Only  one  crossing  over, 

Far  from  the  cares  of  earth — 
Mansions  of  rest  are  open, 

There  is  life's  newest  birth  ; 
Look,  when  the  fond  eyes  closing 

Speak  of  the  sweet  repose, 
Far  from  the  land  of  mourning; 

Heaven  shall  soon  disclose. 

Only  one  crossing  over: 

Sadness,  and  shroud  and  bier 
Filling  one  hour  of  parting  ; 

Then  I  shall  enter  there. 
Only  one  night  of  trial, 

Borne  on  the  swelling  river  ; 
Then  to  my  Saviour's  presence, 

I  shall  be  gone  forever. 


624  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


MY  DAYS  ARE  GLIDING  SWIFTLY  BY. 


David  Nelson. 


MY  days  are  gliding  swiftly  by, 
And  I,  a  pilgrim  stranger, 
Would  not  detain  them  as  they  fly — 
Those  hours  of  toil  and  danger. 

For  oh  !  we  stand  on  Jordan's  strand, 

Our  friends  are  passing  over ; 
And  just  before,  the  shining  shore 
We  may  almost  discover. 

We'll  gird  our  loins,  my  brethren  dear, 

Our  distant  home  discerning  ; 
Our  absent  Lord  has  left  us  word, 

Let  every  lamp  be  burning. 

For  oh !  we  stand  on  Jordan's  strand,  etc. 

Should  coming  days  be  cold  and  dark, 

We  need  not  cease  our  singing  ; 
That  perfect  rest  nought  can  molest, 

Where  golden  harps  are  ringing. 

For  oh  !  we  stand  on  Jordan's  strand,  etc. 

Let  sorrow's  rudest  tempests  blow, 

Each  chord  on  earth  to  sever ; 
Our  King  says  ''  Come,''  and  there's  our  home, 

Forever,  oh  !  forever. 

For  oh  !  wc  stand  on  Jordan's  strand,  etc. 


THE    WAY   TO   HEAVEN.  625 


PILGRIMS,  ON!  THE  DAY  IS  DAWNING. 


Anonymous. 


PILGRIMS— on  !  the  day  is  dawning  ; 
Strike  your  tents  and  homeward  haste  ; 
Sleep  not  while  the  blush  of  morning 

Calls  you  on  the  desert  waste. 
Though  the  way  be  dark  and  dreary, 

Life's  sharp  anguish  must  be  borne  ; 
Courage,  then  !  ye  faint  and  weary — 
Linger  not  to  weep  and  mourn. 

Pilgrims — on  !  the  storm  is  beating — 

Beating  wildly  on  your  way  ; 
Tarry  not — the  time  is  fleeting — 

Shall  the  storm  your  footsteps  stay  ? 
Hasten  on  through  joy  and  sorrow, 

Let  whatever  may  betide  ; 
Wait  not  for  the  calm  to-morrow, 

Faithful  at  the  work  abide. 

Pilgrims — on  !  though  darkness  cover 

All  earth's  pathway  to  the  tomb  ; 
Angels  o'er  that  pathway  hover, 

'Mid  the  deep,  surrounding  gloom. 
Light  effulgent  bearns  above  you 

From  the  throne  of  glory,  where 
Bright  seraphic  ones,  who  love  you. 

Witness  all  your  grief.and  care. 
40 


626  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Pilgrims — on  !  what  though  in  dangers  I 

Life's  eventful  course  pursue  ; 
Labor  on,  ye  friendless  strangers  ; 

Grace  will  guide  you  safely  through. 
What  if  trials  must  befal  you  ! 

What,  if  fierce  temptation  rise  ! 
Shall  earth's  bitter  strife  appal  you 

While  contending  for  the  prize? 

Pilgrims — on  !  the  day  is  ending — 

Life's  probation  day  of  woe  ; 
Twilight  shades  e'en  now  are  blending 

With  the  sunbeam's  faintest  glow. 
Soon  the  night  of  death,  impending. 

Shall  your  toilsome  journey  end  ; 
Hope,  like  starlight  smiles  descending, 

Cheers,  while  o'er  the  grave  you  bend. 


SO  NEAR,  AND  YET  SO  FAR  ! 


Lenthal. 


So  near,  and  yet  so  far,  that  fane  of  gold, 
Where  Day  is  lingering  in  the  glowing  West, 
The  shining  doors  seem  slowly  to  unfold, 
Opening  an  entrance  to  a  home  of  rest ; 
Celestial  ones  fair,  floating  clouds  upbear, 
Too  blest  to  tarry  in  this  world  of  care. 
Thus  dream  we  till  the  night  comes,  stern  and  grey, 
And  sweeps  the  sparkling  pinnacles  away, 
So  near,  and  yet  so  far! 


THE   WAY   TO    HEAVEN.  (^2^ 

So  near,  and  yet  so  far,  the  friend  whose  heart 

Seems  ever  speaking  in  his  earnest  eyes  : 
Yet  souls  from  souls  unfathomed  depths  do  part,- 
Betwixt  our  minds  a  voiceless  mystery  lies. 
So  children  in  some  clear  stream  gliding  by, 
Watch  the  reflection  of  the  distant  sky, 
But  cannot  grasp  the  clouds  of  pearl  and  rose, 
Which  in  its  bosom  placidly  repose, — 
So  near,  and  yet  so  far ! 

So  near,  and  yet  so  far,  that  Spirit-land 

Whose  gales  celestial  soothe  the  weary  brow. 
So  near,  as  if  the  motion  of  a  hand 

Might  thrust  aside  the  mist  that  hides  it  now, 
And  yet  so  far  that  when  earth's  dear  ones  fly 
Like  birds  unfettered  to  their  native  sky, 
No  answer  comes  back  from  the  Shining  Shore, 
And  the  torn  heart  writhes,  moaning  evermore  : — 
So  near,  and  yet  so  far  I 


THE  UNDISCOVERED  COUNTRY, 


From  the  Round  Table. 


[The  questionings,  and  the  answers.] 

COULD  we  but  know 
The  land  that  ends  our  dark,  uncertain  travel,- 
Where  lie  those  happier  hills  and  meadows  low  ! 
Ah  !  if  beyond  the  spirit's  inmost  cavil  ' 

Aught  of  that  country  could  we  surely  know, 
Who  would  not  go? 


628  HEAVEN    IN    SONG. 

*'  Might  we  but  hear 
The  hovering  angels'  high  imagined  chorus, 

Or  catch,  betimes,  with  wakeful  eyes  and  clear, 
One  radiant  vista  of  the  realm  before  us  ! 

With  one  rapt  moment  given  to  see  and  hear, 
Ah  !  who  would  fear  ! 

"  Were  we  quite  sure 
To  find  the  peerless  friend  who  left  us  lonely, 
Or  there,  by  some  celestial  stream  as  pure, 
To  gaze  in  eyes  that  here  were  lovelit  only  ! 
This  weary  mortal  coil, — were  we  quite  sure, 
Who  would  endure  ?  " 


Who  would  not  go 
With  buoyant  steps,  to  gain  that  blessed  portal 

Which  opens  to  the  land  we  long  to  know? 
Where  shall  be  satisfied  the  soul's  immortal, — 
Where  we  shall  drop  the  wearying  and  the  woe 
In  resting  so  ! 

Ah  !  who  would  fear  ? 
Since  sometimes  through  the  distant  pearly  portal. 

Unclosing  to  some  happy  soul  a-near, 
We  catch  a  gleam  of  glorious  light  immortal, 
And  strains  of  heavenly  music  faintly  hear. 
Breathing  good  cheer! 

Who  would  endure 
To  walk  in  doubt  and  darkness  with  misgiving. 
When  He  whose  tender  promises  are  sure — 
The  Crucified,  the  Lord,  the  Ever-living — 
Keeps  us  those  **  mansions"  evermore  secure 
By  waters  pure  ? 


THE   WAY   TO    HEAVEN.  629 

O,  wondrous  land  ! 
Fairer  than  all  our  spirit's  fairest  dreaming  ; 

'*  Eye  hath  not  seen" — no  heart  can  understand 
The  things  prepared,  th^  cloudless  radiance  streaming. 
How  longingly  we  wait  our  Lord's  command, 
His  opening  hand  ! 

O,  dear  ones  there. 
Whose  voices,  hushed,  have  left  our  pathway  lonely, 

We  come,  ere  long,  your  blessed  hope  to  share  ! 
We  take  the  guiding  Hand,  we  trust  it  only — 
Seeing,  by  faith,  beyond  this  clouded  air 
That  land  so  fair  ! 


UP  THE  MISTY  STAIR  THEY  CLIMB. 


Adelaide  A.  Proctor. 


DIM  shadows  gather  thickly,  and  up  the  misty  stair 
they  cHmb, — 
The    cloudy    stair,    that   upward   leads   to   where    the 

closed  portals  shine. 
Round  which  the  kneeling  spirits  wait  the  opening  of 

the  golden  gate. 
And  some  with  eager  longing  go,  still  pressing  forward 

hand  in  hand ; 
And  some,  with  weary  step  and  slow,  look  back  where 

their  beloved  stand, — 
Yet  up  the  misty  stair  they  climb,  led  onward  by  the 

angel  Time. 


630  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

As  unseen  hands  roll  back  the  doors,  the  light  that 
floods  the  very  air 

Is  the  dim  shadow  from  within,  of  the  great  glory  hid- 
den there. 

And  morn  and  eve,  and  soon  and  late,  the  shadows 
pass  within  the  gate. 

As  one  by  one  they  enter  in,  and  the  dim  portals  close 
once  more. 

The  halo  seems  to  linger  round  those  kneeling  closest 
to  the  door, — 

The  joy  that  lightened  from  that  place  shines  still 
upon  the  watcher's  face. 

The  faint,  low  echo  that  we  hear  of  far  off  music  seems 

to  fill 
The    silent   air   with    love    and    fear,  and    the  world's 

clamors  all  grow  still 
Until  the  portals  close  again,  and  leave  us  toiling  on  in 

pain. 
Complain  not  that  the  way  is  long  !    What  road  is  long 

that  leads  us  There  ? 
But  let  the  angel  take  thy  hand,  and  lead  thee  up  the 

misty  stair, 
And  then,  with  trusting  heart,  await   the  opening  of 

the  golden  gate  ! 


THE   WAY   TO   HEAVEN.  63 1 


SHALL  WE  GATHER  AT  THE  RIVER? 

SHALL  we  gather  at  the  river, 
Where  bright  angel-feet  have  trod, 
With  its  crystal  tide  forever 
Flowing  by  the  throne  of  God  ? 

On  the  margin  of  the  river, 

Washing  up  its  silver  spray. 
We  will  walk  and  worship  ever, 

All  the  happy  golden  day. 

On  the  bosom  of  the  river, 

Where  the  Saviour-King  we  own, 

We  shall  meet,  and  sorrow  never 
'Neath  the  glory  of  the  throne. 

Ere  we  reach  the  shining  river, 

Lay  we  every  burden  down  ; 
Grace  our  spirits  will  deliver, 

And  provide  a  robe  and  crown. 

At  the  smiling  of  the  river. 

Rippling  with  the  Saviour's  face, 

Saints,  whom  death  will  never  sever, 
Lift  their  songs  of  saving  grace. 

Soon  we'll  reach  the  shining  river. 
Soon  our  pilgrimage  shall  cease. 

Soon  our  happy  hearts  will  quiver, 
With  the  melody  of  Peace. 


632  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 


ONE   SWEETLY  SOLEMN  THOUGHT. 


Phoebe  Gary. 


ONE  sweetly  solemn  thought 
Comes  to  me  o'er  and  o'er — 
I  am  nearer  home  to-day, 
Than  I  ever  was  before. 

Nearer  my  Father's  House, 
Where  the  many  mansions  be  ; 

Nearer  the  great  white  throne, 
Nearer  the  jasper-sea. 

Nearer  the  bound  of  life, 

Where  we  lay  our  burdens  down  ; 
Nearer  leaving  the  cross. 

Nearer  wearing  the  crown. 

But,  lying  dark  between, 

Winding  down  through  the  night, 
Is  the  dim  and  unknown  stream 

That  leads  at  last  to  light. 

Closer,  closer  my  steps 
Come  to  the  dark  abysm  ; 

Closer,  death  to  my  lips, 
Presses  the  awful  chrism. 


THE   WAY   TO    HEAVEN.  633 

Oh ;  if  my  mortal  feet 

Have  almost  gained  the  brink ; — 
If  it  be  I  am  nearer  home 

Even  to-day  than  I  think  ; — 

Father  perfect  my  trust ! 

Let  my  spirit  feel  in  death 
That  her  feet  are  firmly  set 

On  the  rock  of  a  living  faith ! 


O  HAPPY  PILGRIMS,  SPOTLESS  FAIR. 

PILGRIMS  we  are,  to  Canaan  bound, 
Our  journey  lies  along  this  road  ; 
This  wilderness  we  travel  round, 
To  reach  the  city  of  our  God. 
O  happy  pilgrims,  spotless  fair. 
What  makes  your  robes  so  white  appear? 
Our  robes  are  washed  in  Jesus'  blood, 
And  we  are  travelling  home  to  God. 

A  few  more  days,  or  weeks,  or  years, 

In  this  dark  desert  to  complain  ; 
A  few  more  sighs,  a  few  more  tears, 
And  we  shall  bid  adieu  to  pain. 
O  happy  pilgrims,  spotless  fair. 
What  makes  your  robes  so  white  appear  ? 
Our  robes  are  washed  in  Jesus'  blood. 
And  we  are  travelHng  home  to  God. 


034  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 


IT  IS  TOLD  ME  I  MUST  DIE. 


[Richard  Langhorne,  a  lawyer,  was  unjustly  condemned  and  put  to  death  as 
a  traitor,  in  the  reign  of  Charles  II.  Just  before  his  execution  he  wrote  the  follow- 
ing poem.  In  the  language  of  the  Quarterly  Review,  a  poem  it  must  be  called, 
though  it  is  not  verse.  Perhaps  there  is  not  in  this,  or  any  other  language,  a  poem 
which  appears  to  have  flowed  so  entirely  from  the  heart.] 


I 


T  is  told  me  I  must  die  ; 
O  happy  news  ! 
Be  glad,  O  my  soul ! 
And  rejoice  in  Jesus,  thy  Saviour. 
If  He  intended  thy  perdition, 
Would  He  have  laid  down  His  life  for  thee  ? 
Would  He  have  called  thee  with  so  much  love, 
And  illumined  thee  with  the  light  of  His  Spirit? 

Would  He  have  given  thee  His  cross. 
And  given  thee  shoulders  to  bear  it  with  patience  ? 

It  is  told  me  I  must  die ; 
O  happy  news ! 

Come  on,  my  dearest  soul ; 

Behold  thy  Jesus  calls  thee  ; 

He  prayed  for  thee  upon  His  cross ; 
There  He  extended  His  arms  to  receive  thee  ; 
There  He  bowed  down  His  head  to  kiss  thee  ; 
There  He  opened  His  heart  to  give  thee  entrance  ; 
There  He  gave  up  His  life  to  purchase  life  for  thee  ; 

It  is  told  me  I  must  die  ; 
O  what  happiness ! 


THE   WAY   TO   HEAVEN.  635 

I  am  going 
To  the  place  of  rest ; 
To  the  land  of  the  living  ; 
To  the  heaven  of  security  ; 
To  the  kingdom  of  peace  ; 
To  the  palace  of  my  God  ; 
To  the  nuptials  of  the  Lamb  ; 
To  sit  at  the  table  of  my  King ; 
To  feed  on  the  bread  of  Angels  ; 
To  see  what  no  eye  hath  seen  ; 
To  hear  what  no  ear  hath  heard  ; 
To  enjoy  what  the  heart  of  man  cannot  comprehend. 

O  my  Father ! 
O  thou  best  of  Fathers, 
Have  pity  on  the  most  wretched  of  all  Thy  children ! 

I  was  lost,  but  by  Thy  mercy  found  ; 
I  was  dead,  but  by  Thy  grace  am  now  raised  again  L 
I  was  gone  astray  after  vanity, 
But  I  am  now  ready  to  appear  before  Thee. 

O  my  Father ! 
Come  now  in  mercy,  and  receive  Thy  child ! 
Give  him  Thy  kiss  of  peace  ; 
Remit  unto  him  all  his  sins  ; 
Clothe  him  with  Thy  nuptial  robe  ; 
Permit  him  to  have  a  place  at  Thy  feast ! 
And  forgive  all  those  who  are  guilty  of  his  death  ! 


636  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 


OUR  BELOVED  HAVE  DEPARTED. 


Lange. 


OUR  beloved  have  departed, 
While  we  tarry  broken-hearted  ; 
In  the  dreary  empty  house, 
They  have  ended  Hfe's  brief  story. 
They  have  reached  the  home  of  glory, 
Over  death  victorious  ! 

Hush  that  sobbing,  weep  more  lightly. 
On  we  travel,  daily,  nightly. 

To  the  rest  that  they  have  found  : 
Are  we  not  upon  the  river, 
Sailing  fast,  to  meet  forever. 

On  more  holy,  happy  ground  ? 

Whilst  with  bitter  tears  we're  mourning 
Thought  to  buried  love  returning, 

Time  is  hastening  us  along, 
Downward  to  the  grave's  dark  dwelling. 
Upward,  to  the  fountain  welling, 

With  eternal  life  and  song ! 

Feel  ye  not  the  breezes  hieing? 
Clouds,  along  in  hurry  flying — 

But  we  haste  more  swiftly  on — 
Ever  changing  our  position, 
Ever  tossed  in  strange  transition — 

Here  to-day,  to  morrow  gone  ! 


THE   WAY   TO    HEAVEN.  637 

Every  hour  that  passes  o'er  us 
Speaks  of  comfort  yet  before  us, 

Of  our«journey's  rapid  rate  ; — 
And  Hke  passing  vesper  bells, 
The  clock  of  Time  its  chiming  tells, 

At  Eternity's  broad  gate. 

On  we  haste,  to  home  invited, 
There  with  friends  to  be  united 

In  a  surer  bond  than  here  ; 
Meeting  soon,  and  met  forever  ! 
Glorious  hope  !  forsake  us  never, 

For  thy  glimmering  light  is  dear  ! 

Ah  !  the  way  is  shining  clearer, 
As  we  journey,  ever  nearer 

To  our  everlasting  home  ; 
Friends  who  There  await  our  landing, 
Comrades,  round  the  Throne  now  standing, 

We  salute  you,  and  we  come  ! 


AWAY  TO  THE  LAND  OF  LIGHT. 


Marianne  Farkingham. 


AWAY  to  the  land  of  light ; 
Its  gates  are  shining  with  radiant  beams, 
And  the  path  in  the  morning  sunlight  gleams — 
Away  to  the  land  of  light. 

There  liveth  the  Holy  One ; 
And  we  as  we  journey  'mid  guilt  and  sin, 
See  the  fair  land,  but  enter  not  in 

Till  the  stain  from  our  brow  be  gone. 


638  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

There  are  the  friends  we  loved  ; 
And  the  yearning  heart  is  unsatisfied, 
While  the  cold  dark  wavelets  our  Ijearts  divide  ; 

There  are  the  friends  we  loved. 

There  is  the  sacred  rest 
For  which  the  tired  spirits  sigh  in  vain ; 
There  is  no  cry  which  is  wrung  by  pain  ; 

There  are  the  ransomed  blest. 

There,  there  is  perfect  bliss  : 
Away  from  the  land  of  the  curse  and  woe, 
Away  from  the  depths  of  sin  we  will  go, 

To  the  home  where  the  Saviour  is. 

Away  to  the  land  of  light ; 
Lift  the  tired  feet  and  press  on  once  more, 
Soon  will  the  journey  of  pain  be  o'er ; 

Away  to  the  land  of  light. 


CALL  IT  A  PEACEFUL  REST 

CALL  it  not  dying,  when  we  cast 
This  mortal  part  away, 
And  plume  our  wide  expanding  wings 
For  realms  of  cloudless  day. 

Call  it  not  dying,  when  we  see 

By  faith  the  open  door. 
Alluring  us  to  that  bright  world 

Where  we  shall  sin  no  more. 


THE   WAY   TO    HEAVEN.  639 

Call  it  not  dying,  when  we  snap 

Our  prison  bars  in  twain. 
And  our  freed  spirits  rise  above 

The  reach  of  care  and  pain. 

Call  it  not  dying,  when  we  go 

To  that  dear  home  above, 
To  life  with  Christ,  the  Crucified, 

Where  all  the  air  is  love. 

Call  it  not  dying,  when  we'll  meet 

The  loved  of  other  years 
Where  God's  own  hand  has  guided  them, 

And  wiped  away  their  tears. 

Call  it  not  dying,  timid  one, 

For  fear  to  cross  the  stream 
That  lands  thee  on  the  beauteous  shore, 

Where  heavenly  glories  beam. 

No !  call  it  going  home  to  God  ; 

Call  it  a  peaceful  rest ; 
Call  it  departing  from  this  world, 

To  dwell  among  the  blest ! 


INTO   THE   CITY  OF  THE  BLEST. 

INTO  the  City,  in  silence  deep. 
The  pearly  gates  unclosed  once  more ; 
Hushed  was  the  fall  of  her  parting  feet, 
As  gently  she  passed  the  threshold  o'er  ; 


640  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

Only  the  light  of  that  peaceful  brow 

Reflecting  splendor  earth  never  guessed, 

Told  that  the  spirit  had  entered  in 
The  holy  City  of  love  and  rest. 

Into  the  City,  a  little  way, 

Our  faith  may  follow  her  shining  trace, 
May  see  in  vision  the  jasper  walls. 

The  golden  streets  of  her  dwelling-place — 
May  catch  the  gleam  of  her  robes  of  white. 

As  low  she  kneels  with  the  seraph  throng — 
May  see  in  her  hand  the  victor  palm. 

And  know  her  voice  in  the  angel's  song. 

Into  the  City,  whose  purer  joys 

Were  ne'er  to  prophet  or  saint  revealed  ; — 
To  clasp  the  loved  ones  of  earth,  and  share 

The  bliss  of  the  souls  that  God  hath  sealed— 
To  lean  for  aye  on  the  Saviour's  breast, 

Where  Life's  glad  River  forever  flows, 
And  feel  the  Sun  of  the  Father's  smile, 

The  rapture  that  perfect  love  bestows. 

Into  the  City  !     Why  stand  we  here. 

Gazing  so  steadfastly  into  Heaven? 
An  angel  whisper  we  seem  to  hear. 

Solemn  and  sweet  as  the  breath  of  even. 
"  A  few  more  steps  of  the  onward  way, 

A  little  longer  to  watch  and  wait, 
And  ye,  with  sorrow  and  tears  all  past, 

May  enter  the  City  through  the  gate." 


THE  WAY  TO  HEAVEN.  64 1 


THE  SENTRY  BY  THE  PORTAL. 


Thomas  McKellar. 


THERE  is  a  land  immortal, — 
The  beautiful  of  lands  ; 
And  near  the  ancient  portal 

A  sentry  grimly  stands  ; 
He  only  can  undo  it, 

And  open  wide  the  door ; 
And  mortals  who  pass  through  it 
Are  mortal  nevermore. 

That  glorious  land  is  Heaven, 

And  Death, — the  sentry  grim  ; 
The  Lord,  therefore,  has  given 

The  opening  keys  to  him  • 
And  ransomed  sinners  sighing, 

And  sorrowful  for  sin, 
Do  pass  the  gate  in  dying, 

And  freely  enter  in. 

Though  dark  and  drear  the  passage 

That  leadeth  to  the  door. 
Yet  Grace  comes  with  the  message 

Of  Love  for  evermore. 
And,  at  the  time  appointed,  . 

A  messenger  comes  down. 
And  leads  the  Lord's  anointed 

From  cross  to  Glory's  crown. 


642  HEAVEN    IN    SONG. 

Their  sighs  are  lost  in  singing 

They're  blessed  in  their  tears — 
Their  journey,  homeward  winging, 

They  leave  to  earth  their  fears. 
Death,  like  an  angel  seemeth — 

"  We  welcome  you,''  they  cry; 
Each  face  with  glory  beameth. 

'Tis  Life  for  them  to  die  ! 


I'M  RETURNING,  NOT  DEPARTING. 


HORATIUS   BONAR. 


I'M  returning,  not  departing; 
My  steps  are  homeward-bound  ; 
I  quit  the  land  of  strangers, 
For  a  home  on  native  ground. 

I  am  rising,  and  not  setting — 
This  is  not  night,  but  day  ; 

Not  in  darkness,  but  in  sunshine, 
Like  a  star  I  fade  away. 

All  is  well  with  me  forever  ; 

I  do  not  fear  to  go  ; 
My  tide  is  but  beginning 

Its  bright  eternal  flow. 

I  am  leaving  only  shadows. 

For  the  true,  and  fair,  and  good  ; 

I  must  not,  cannot  linger; 
I  would  not,  if  I  could. 


THE   WAY   TO    HEAVEN.  643 

This  is  not  Death's  dark  portal ; 

'Tis  LiTe's  golden  gate  to  me  ; 
Link  after  link  is  broken, 

And  I,  at  last,  am  free  ! 

I  am  going  to  the  angels, 

I  am  going  to  my  God  ; 
I  know  the  hand  that  beckons, 

I  see  the  heavenly  road. 

Why  grieve  me  with  your  weeping  ? 

Your  tears  are  all  in  vain  : 
An  hour's  farewell,  beloved. 

And  we  shall  meet  again. 

Jesus,  Thou  wilt  receive  me, 

And  welcome  me  above ; 
This  sunlight  which  now  fills  me, 

Is  Thine  own  smile  of  love  ! 


WHEN  FOR  ETERNAL  WORLDS  I  STEER. 

WHEN  for  eternal  worlds  I  steer. 
And  seas  are  calm,  and  skies  are  clear, 
And  faith,  in  lively  exercise. 
The  distant  hills  of  Canaan  rise, 
My  soul  for  joy  then  claps  her  wings, 
And  loud  her  lovely  sonnet  sings — 
Vain  world,  adieu !     Vain  world,  adieu  ! 
And  loud  her  lovely  sonnet  sings — 
Vain  world,  adieu  !     Vain  world,  adieu  ! 
41 


644  HEAVEN    IN    SONG. 

With  cheerful  hope  her  eyes  explore 
Each  landmark  on  the  distant  shore  ; 
The  trees  of  life,  the  pastures  green, 
The  golden  streets,  the  crystal  stream. 
Again  for  joy  she  claps  her  wings 
And  loud  her  lovely  sonnet  sings — 
I'm  almost  Home  !     Tm  almost  Home! 
And  loud  her  lovely  sonnet  sings — 
I'm  almost  Home  !     I'm  almost  Home  ! 

The  nearer  still  she  draws  to  land, 

More  eager  all  her  hopes  expand  ; 

With  steady  helm  and  flowing  sail 

Her  anchor  drops  within  the  vale  ; 

Again  for  joy  she  claps  her  wings 

And  her  celestial  sonnet  sings — 

I'm  safe  at  Home  !     I'm  safe  at  Home  ! 

And  her  celestial  sonnet  sings — 

I'm  safe  at  Home !     I'm  safe  at  Home  ! 


THROUGH  THE  CROSS  THE  CROWN. 

"  VIA  CRUCIS,  VIA  LUCIS." 


From  the  German. 


THROUGH  the  cross  comes  the  crown  ;  when  the 
cares  of  this  life 
Like  giants  in  strength  may  to  crush  thee  combine, 
Never  mind,  never  mind  !  after  sorrow's  sad  strife. 
Shall  the  peace  and  the  crown  of  salvation  be  thine. 


THE   WAY    TO    HEAVEN.  645 

Through  woe  comes  delight ;  if  at  evening  thou  sigh, 
And  thy  soul  still  at  midnight  in  sorrow  appears, 

Never  mind,  never  mind !  for  the  morning  is  nigh, 
Whose  sunbeams  of  gladness  shall  dry  up  thy  tears ! 

Through  death  comes  our  life  :  to  the  portal  of  pain,    . 

Through  Time's   thistle-fields,  are  our  weary  steps 
driven ; 
Never  mind,  never  mind  !  through  this  passage  we  gain 

The  mansions  of  light  and  the  portals  of  heaven. 


LAUNCH  THY  BOAT,  MARINER. 


Caroline  Southey. 


LAUNCH  thy  boat,  mariner! 
Christian,  God  speed  thee ! 
Let  loose  the  rudder-bands, 

Good  angels  lead  thee  ! 
Set  thy  sails  warily, 

Tempests  will  come  ; 
Steer  thy  course  steadily. 
Christian,  steer  home  ! 

Look  to  the  weather  bow, 

Breakers  are  round  thee  ; 
Let  fall  thy  plummet  now. 

Shallows  may  ground  thee  ; 
Reef  in  the  foresail  there  ! 

Hold  the  helm  fast ! 
So,  let  the  vessel  wear. 

There  swept  the  blast. 


646  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

"  What  of  the  night,  watchman  ? 

What  of  the  night  ?  " 
"  Cloudy — all  quiet : 

No  land  yet — all's  right." 
Be  wakeful,  be  vigilant, 

Danger  may  be 
At  an  hour  when  all  seemeth 

Securest  to  thee. 

How,  gains  the  leak  so  fast  ? 

Clear  out  the  hold  ; 
Hoist  up  the  merchandise. 

Heave  out  the  gold  ! 
There,  let  the  ingots  go, 

Now  the  ship  rights  ; 
Hurrah  !  the  harbor's  near, 

Lo  !  the  red  lights  ! 

Slacken  not  sail  yet, 

At  inlet  or  island, 
Straight  for  the  beacon  st^er, 

Straight  for  the  highland  ; 
Crowd  all  thy  canvas  on, 

Cut  through  the  foam  ; 
Christian,  cast  anchor  now, 

Heaven  is  thy  home! 


THE    WAY   TO   HEAVEN.  647 


WOULDST   THOU   INHERIT  LIFE  WITH 
CHRIST? 


Simon  Dach,  (1640). 


WOULDST  thou  inherit  life  with  Christ  on  high  ? 
Then  count  the  cost  and  know 
That  here  on  earth  below 
Thou  needs  must  suffer  with  thy  Lord  and  die. 
We  reach  that  gain  to  which  all  else  is  loss, 
But  through  the  cross. 

Oh  think  what  sorrows  Christ  himself  has  known  ! 

The  scorn  and  anguish  sore, 

The  bitter  death  He  bore. 
Ere  He  ascended  to  His  heavenly  throne  ; 
And  deemest  thou,  thou  canst  with  right  complain, 

Whate'er  thy  pain  ? 

Not  e'en  the  sharpest  sorrows  we  can  feel, 

Nor  keenest  pangs,  we  dare 

With  that  great  bliss  compare 
When  God  His  glory  shall  in  us  reveal. 
That  shall  endure  when  our  brief  woes  are  o'er 

For  evermore! 


648  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


THE  PEARLY  GATES  AJAR. 


Emily  C.  Judpon. 


I  GAZED  down  life's  dim  labyrinth, 
A  wildering  maze  to  see, 
Crossed  o'er  by  many  a  tangled  clue, 

And  wild  as  wild  could  be  ; 
And  as  I  gazed  in  doubt  and  dread, 
An  angel  came  to  me. 

I  knew  him  for  a  heavenly  guide, 

I  knew  him  even  then, 
Though  meekly  as  a  child  he  stood 

Among  the  sons  of  men — 
By  his  deep  spirit-loveliness, 

I  knew  him  even  then. 

And  as  I  leaned  my  weary  head 

Upon  his  proffered  breast, 
And  scanned  the  peril-haunted  wild 

From  out  my  place  of  rest, 
I  wondered  if  the  shining  ones 

Of  Eden  were  more  blest. 

For  there  was  light  within  my  soul, 

Light  on  my  peaceful  way. 
And  all  around  the  blue  above 

The  clustering  starlight  lay  ; 
And  easterly  I  saw  upreared 

The  pearly  gates  of  day. 


THE   WAY   TO    HEAVEN.  649 

So,  hand  in  hand,  we  trod  the  wild, 

My  angel  love  and  I — 
His  lifted  wing  all  quivering 

With  tokens  from  the  sky. 
Strange  my  dull  thought  could  not  divine 

'Twas  lifted  but  to  fly  ! 

Again  down  life's  dim  labyrinth 

I  grope  my  way  alone, 
While  wildly  through  the  midnight  sky 

Black,  hurrying  clouds  are  blown, 
And  thickly,  in  my  tangled  path. 

The  sharp,  bare  thorns  are  sown. 

Yet  firm  my  foot,  for  well  I  know 

The  goal  cannot  be  far  ; 
And  ever,  through  the  rifted  clouds, 

Shines  out  one  steady  star — 
For  when  my  guide  went  up,  he  left 

The  pearly  gates  ajar. 


PILGRIMS  FROM  ALL  LANDS. 


Marshall  B.  Smith. 


WE  are  pilgrims  bound  for  the  better  land, 
Where  the  stream  of  life  laves  the  golden  sand 
We  have  no  continuing  city  here, 
But  our  city  of  refuge,  our  home  is  there. 


650  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

From  every  region  of  earth,  we've  come, 

And,  one  in  spirit,  are  journeying  home. 

Out  of  every  kindred  and  tongue  and  clime. 

From  the  land  of  the  orange,  the  palm,  and  the  lime. 

From  the  chill  domain  of  eternal  snows  ; 
From  the  sunny  home  of  the  vine  and  rose  ; 
From  the  east  to  the  place  of  the  setting  sun  ; 
From  the  ice-bound  pole  to  the  torrid  zone. 

Of  every  color  and  tribe  and  race — 
Allied  by  adoption,  made  one  by  grace — 
We  are  journeying  on  to  our  home  above, 
Where  sin  invades  not  the  realm  of  love. 

We  may  stop  to  gather  the  wayside  flowers  ; 
We  may  rest  awhile  in  the  fragrant  bowers, 
Which  God  hath  provided  along  the  way. 
To  shield  from  the  tempest  or  heat  of  day. 

But  we  may  not  stay  in  this  world  below, 
Where  the  cup  of  bliss  has  its  dregs  of  woe  ; 
Our  home  is  on  yonder  illumined  shore, 
Where  woe  can  embitter  our  bliss  no  more. 

Where  flowers  bloom  not  to  fade  and  die. 
Where  naught  shall  sever  affection's  tie ; 
Where  affliction  comes  not,  nor  death  nor  night, 
But  where  all  is  joyous  and  calm  and  bright. 

Do  not  detain  us,  for  we  cannot  remain 
In  this  world  of  sorrow,  of  care  and  pain. 
We  are  heirs  of  glory  through  Christ  the  Son, 
And  we  may  not  rest  till  our  goal  is  won. 


THE   WAY   TO    HEAVEN.  6$  I 

The  stream  of  death  lies  just  before, 
But  our  home  appears  on  the  farther  shore. 
We  can  almost  discover  the  jasper  walls, 
The  pearly  gates,  and  the  shining  halls. 

The  streets  of  gold  and  of  priceless  stone, 
The  crystal  sea  and  the  great  white  throne  ; 
Where  cherub  and  seraph  are  bending  low, 
Beneath  the  arch  of  the  emerald  bow: — 

Where  the  Lamb  is  seated  at  God's  right  hand; 
Where  ransomed  millions  in  glory  stand. 
No  night  is  there,  neither  moon  nor  sun, 
For  the  light  thereof  is  the  Holy  One. 

We  long  to  sunder  these  bonds  of  clay, 
And  on  eagle  pinions  to  soar  away; 
But  we  follow  our  Captain's  guiding  hand 
And  journey  onward,  a  pilgrim  band. 

A  few  short  years  and  our  toil  is  done — 
Our  conflict  finished — the  victory  won 
We  shall  lay  our  cross  and  our  armor  down, 
For  the  saintly  robe  and  the  kingly  crown. 


652  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


THE  ROAD  IS  SHORT,  THE  REST  IS  LONG. 


From  the  German  of  Sachse. 


COME  forth  !  come  on,  with  solemn  song, 
The  road  is  short,  the  rest  is  long. 
The  Lord  brought  here,  He  calls  away  ; 

Make  no  delay, 
This  home  was  for  a  passing  day. 

Here  in  an  inn  a  stranger  dwelt, 
Here  joy  and  grief  by  turns  he  felt ; 
Poor  dwelling,  now  we  close  thy  door  ! 

The  task  is  o'er, 
The  sojourner  returns  no  more. 

Now  of  a  lasting  home  possessed, 
He  goes  to  seek  a  deeper  rest ; 
Good  night !  the  day  was  sultry  here, 

In  toil  and  fear ; 
Good  night  !  the  night  is  cool  and  clear. 

Come  on,  ye  bells !  again  begin. 
And  ring  the  Sabbath  morning  in  ; 
The  laborer's  week-day  work  is  done, 

The  rest  begun. 
Which  Christ  hath  for  his  people  won  ! 

Now  open  to  us,  gates  of  peace  ! 
Here  let  the  pilgrim's  journey  cease  ; 


THE   WAY    TO    HEAVEN.  653 

Ye  quiet  slumberers,  make  room 

In  your  still  home, 
For  the  new  stranger  who  has  come ! 

How  many  graves  around  us  lie  ! 
How  many  homes  are  in  the  sky  ! 
Yes,  for  each  saint  doth  Christ  prepare 

A  place  with  care  : 
Thy  home  is  waiting,  brother,  there. 

Jesus,  Thou  reignest,  Lord,  alone, 
Thou  wilt  return,  and  claim  Thine  own. 
Come  quickly,  Lord  !  return  again  ! 

Amen  !  Amen  ! 
Thy  seal  is  ever,  now  and  then ! 


WITH    STEADY  FEET  THEY  PRESS  ALONG. 


Marianne  Farningham. 


ON,  in  the  morn's  first  pleasant  smile  ; 
On,  in  the  heat  of  the  blazing  noon  ; 
On,  when  the  twilight's  shades  beguile ; 

On,  'neath  the  light  of  the  midnight  moon. 
Sing  they  the  pilgrims'  marching  song. 

That  little  band  with  their  banners  high, 
As  with  steady  feet  they  press  along 

To  the  King's  fair  palace  beyond  the  sky. 

They  have  left  the  graves  of  their  loves  behind, 
Their  fairest  treasures  are  buried  deep  ; 

Their  hopes  are  scattered  by  storm  and  wind, 
And  tearful  watchers  their  vigils  keep  : 


654  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

They  have  no  home  'mid  the  pastures  fair, 
No  resting  place  when  the  dew-drops  fall ; 

But  they  hasten  home,  for  their  rest  is  there, 
And  they  follow  the  Master's  clarion  call. 

They  go  to  the  bright  long-promised  land  : 

Shall  this  tear-dimmed  world  steal  their  hearts  away? 
They  will  join  the  holy  angelic  band  : 

Shall  the  sinful,  the  faithless,  win  their  stay? 
They  will  dwell  amid  beautiful  fadeless  flowers  : 

Shall  the  weeds  of  this  desert  please  their  eyes? 
They  go  where  love  lights  the  deathless  hours : 

Should  they  ever  halt  'mid  these  vanities? 

Nay,  nay;  they  peer  through  the  shadows  dim, 

And  see  the  towers  of  the  Father's  home  ; 
They  listen,  and  catch  the  distant  hymn 

Which  bids  them  to  endless  glory  come. 
On,  in  the  morn's  first  pleasant  smile  ; 

On,  in  the  heat  of  the  blazing  noon  ; 
On,  when  the  twiHght  dews  beguile, 

Home  they  press — they  will  reach  it  soon. 


JESUS,  GUIDE  OUR  WAY. 


Akthur  Tozhr  Russel. 


JESUS,  guide  our  way 
To  eternal  day  ! 
So  shall  we,  no  more  delaying. 
Follow  Thee,  Thy  voice  obeying  ; 
Lead  us  by  Thy  hand 
To  our  Father's  land  ! 


THE   WAY   TO    HEAVEN.  655 

When  we  danger  meet, 

Steadfast  make  our  feet ! 

Lord,  preserve  us  uncomplaining 

'Mid  the  darkness  round  us  reigning! 

Through  adversity 

Lies  our  way  to  Thee. 

Order  all  our  way 

Through  this  mortal  day  ;  ^ 

In  our  toil  with  aid  be  near  us ; 

In  our  need  with  succor  cheer  us  ; 

When  life's  course  is  o'er, 

Open  Thou  the  door ! 


I  SAIL  TO  THE  LAND  OF  THE  BLEST. 


E.  D.  Jacksom- 


ON  !  on  !  through  the  storm  and  the  billow. 
By  life's  checkered  troubles  opprest. 
The  rude  deck  my  home  and  my  pillow, 

I  sail  to  the  land  of  the  Blest. 
The  tempests  of  darkness  confound  me, 

Above  me  the  deep  waters  roll. 
But  the  arms  of  sweet  Pity  surround  me. 
And  bear  up  my  foundering  soul. 

With  a  wild  and  mysterious  commotion 
The  torrent  flows,  rapid  and  strong, 

Towards  a  mournful  and  shadowy  ocean 
My  vessel  bounds  fiercely  along. 


656  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

Ye  waters  of  gloom  and  of  sorrow, 

How  dread  are  your  tumult  and  roar ! 

But  oh,  for  the  brilliant  to-morrow 

That  dawns  upon  yonder  bright  shore  * 

0  Pilot  the  great  and  the  glorious, 
That  sittest  in  garments  so  white, 

O'er  death  and  o'er  Hell  ''the  Victorious,* 
The  'Way  and  the  Truth  and  the  Light, 

Speak,  speak  to  the  darkness  appalling, 
And  bid  the  mad  turmoil  to  cease  : 

For  hark  !  the  good  Angels  are  calling 
My  soul  to  the  haven  of  Peace. 

Now  ended  all  sighing  and  sadness, 
The  waves  of  destruction  all  spent, 

1  sing  with  the  children  of  gladness 
The  song  of  immortal  content. 

Soar!  Spirit,  on  bounding  pinion. 
The  monarch  of  endless  days  ; 

To  Jesus  the  Prince  of  dominion 
Give  honor,  and  glory,  and  praise. 


O'ERCOME  AND  REIGN  WITH  ME. 


Thomas  H.  Gill. 


'*  To  him  that  overcometh." 

WHO,  Lord  of  Glory,  will  partake 
Most  largely  of  Thy  bliss  ? 
To  whom,  sweet  Saviour,  dost  Thou  make 
Thy  sweetest  promises  ? 


THE   WAY   TO    HEAVEN.-  657 

To  him  who  overcomes,  Thy  voice 

With  sevenfold  grace  doth  sound  : 
He  who  overcometh  shall  rejoice, 

With  sevenfold  glory  crowned. 

Soul !  wouldst  thou  from  the  battle  shrink. 

And  flee  before  the  foe  ? 
Dost  thou  beneath  the  burden  sink, 

And  in  the  dust  He  low  ? 
O !  waste  not  there  vain  tears  and  sighs ! 

The  trumpet  soundeth  clear ; 
Overcome,  and  to  my  glory  rise  ! 

O'ercome,  and  triumph  here ! 

Wouldst  thou  a  fairer  lot  require 

And  lighter  tasks  essay? 
Dost  thou  a  brighter  sun  desire 

And  wish  a  smoother  way  ? 
What  saith  the  Master  ?     Overcome 

And  thou  shalt  feast  with  Me, 
In  Paradise  shalt  make  thy  home, 

And  eat  of  life's  fair  tree. 

Does  earth  withhold  from  thee  her  smile  ? 

Hast  thou  no  glory  here? 
Do  men  reject  thee  and  revile  ? 

What  saith  thy  Saviour  dear? 
O'ercome,  and  I  will  name  thy  name 

Before  my  Father's  throne  ; 
Heaven  from  my  mouth  shall  hear  thy  fame 

And  my  true  servant  own. 


658  -.        HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Renewed  soul!  dost  thou  aspire 

To  the  glad  life  above  ? 
The  Holy  Land  dost  thou  desire, 

The  Realm  of  Rest  and  Love  ? 
For  thee  it  sounds — that  Voice  Divine 
•■     Tells  thee  the  self-s^me  road ; 
Overcome,  and  thou  in  white  shalt  shine 

And  make  with  Me  abode. 

Thou  yearnest  for  thy  Saviour's  breast : 

Unto  the  end  o'ercome  ! 
Then  on  His  bosom  shalt  thou  rest  ; 

Then  shalt  thou  smile  at  home. 
The  glory  will  be  all  thine  own  : 

To  thee  He  speaks,  to  thee ! 
O'ercome,  and  sit  upon  my  throne  ! 

O'ercome,  and  reign  with  Me  ! 


THERE'S  A  SOUND  OF  FEET  IN  THE  DESERT 
TRACK. 


Marianne  Farningham. 


THERE'S  a  sound  of  feet  in  the  desert  tracks 
Eager  feet  that  would  not  turn  back  ; 
That  firmly  press  on,  where  the  thorns  are  found ; 
Buoyant  feet  that  are  homeward-bound. 

There's  a  sound  of  song  in  the  twilight  dim, 
A  thrilling  sound  of  a  sacred  hymn  ; 
And  the  pilgrims'  marching  feet  keep  time 
To  the  measure  of  that  melodious  chime! 


THE   WAY   TO    HEAVEN.  659 

Alike  in  the  densest  shades  of  night, 
And  the  hottest  glare  of  the  noontide  light, 
On  they  press  up  the  rough  hillside  ; 
On,  still  on  through  the  valleys  wide. 

And  they  scarcely  stay  where  the  waters  gush; 
Scarcely  rest  in  the  night's  deep  hush ; 
Scarcely  gather  the  flowers  around  ; 
Steadily  on,  move  the  "  homeward-bound." 

For  their  Father's  house  in  the  distance  lies, 
And  thither  turn  the  aspiring  eyes  ; 
The  thought  of  greetings  and  welcome  there, 
Woos  them  on  to  its  turrets  fair. 

So  cheerily  pass  the  homeward-bound 

Through  the  stranger's  land,  where  griefs  abound, 

For  a  little  while,  and  the  pilgrim  feet 

Will  rest  where  the  ransomed  and  holy  meet. 


FM   GOING  HOME. 


Anonymous. 


HOME  !  Oh  how  soft  and  sweet 
It  thrills  upon  the  heart ! 
Home  !  where  the  brethren  meet. 
And  never,  never  part. 
I'm  going  home. 
42 


66o  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

Home  !  where  the  Bridegroom  takes 
The  purchase  of  His  love: 

Home!  where  the  Father  waits 
To  welcome  saints  above. 
I'm  going  home. 

Yes  !  when  the  world  looks  cold, 
Which  did  my  Lord  revile, 

A  lamb  within  the  fold, 
I  can  look  up  and  smile. 
I'm  going  home. 

When  earth's  delusive  charms 
-    Would  snare  my  pilgrim  feet, 
I  fly  to  Jesus'  arms, 
And  yet  again  repeat, — 
I'm  going  home. 

When  breaks  each  mortal  tie 
That  holds  me  from  the  goal, 

This,  this  can  satisfy 

The  cravings  of  my  soul, — 
I'm  going  home. 

Ah  !  gently,  gently  lead 

Along  the  painful  way  ; 
Bid  every  word  and  deed, 

And  every  look  to  say, — 
I'm  going  home. 


THE   WAY   TO   HEAVEN.  66 1 


MY   FATHERLAND  IS  YONDER, 


From  Lyra  Gennanica. 


A  PILGRIM  here  I  wander, 
On  earth  have  no  abode  ; 
My  fatherland  is  yonder, 

My  home  is  with  my  God. 
For  here  I  journey  to  and  fro, 

There,  in  eternal  rest. 
Will  God  His  gracious  gift  bestow 
On  all  the  toil-oppressed. 

For  what  hath  life  been  giving 

From  youth  up  till  this  day, 
But  constant  toil  and  striving, 

Far  back  as  thought  can  stray  ? 
How  many  a  day  of  toil  and  care, 

How  many  a  night  of  tears. 
Hath  pass'd  in  grief  that  none  could  share, 

In  lonely  anxious  fears ! 

How  many  a  storm  hath  light en'd 

And  thundered  round  my  path  ! 
And  winds  and  rains  have  frighten 'd 

My  heart  with  fiercest  wrath ; 
And  cruel  envy,  hatred,  scorn. 

Have  darken'd  oft  my  lot ; 
And  patiently  reproach  I've  borne, 

Though  I  deserved  it  not. 


662  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Then  through  this  life  of  dangers 

I'll  onward  take  my  way, 
For  in  this  land  of  strangers 

I  do  not  think  to  stay. 
Still  forward  on  the  road  I  fare 

That  leads  me  to  my  home. 
My  Father's  comfort  waits  me  there, 

When  I  have  overcome. 

Ah,  yes  !  my  home  is  yonder. 

Where  all  the  angelic  bands 
Praise  Him  with  awe  and  wonder, 

In  whose  Almighty  hands 
All  things  that  are  and  shall  be,  lie, 

By  Him  upholden  still, 
Who  casteth  down  and  lifts  on  high 

At  His  most  holy  will 

That  home  have  I  desired  ; 

'Tis  there  I  would  be  gone; 
Till  I  am  well  nigh  tir'd, 

O'er  earth  I've  journey'd  on  ; 
The  longer  here  I  roam,  I  find 

The  less  of  real  joy 
That  e'er  could  please  or  fill  my  mind, 

For  all  hath  some  alloy. 

Where  now  my  spirit  stayeth 

It  is  not  her  true  abode  ; 
This  earthly  house  decayeth, 

And  she  will  drop  its  load, 


THE   WAY   TO    HEAVEN.  663 

When  comes  the  hour  to  leave  beneath 

What  now  I  use  and  have, 
And  when  I've  yielded  up  my  breath, 

Earth  gives  me  but  a  grave. 

But  Thou,  my  joy  and  gladness, 

Jesus,  my  life  and  light, 
Wilt  raise  me  from  this  sadness, 

This  long  tempestuous  night, 
Into  the  perfect  gladsome  day. 

Where,  bathed  in  joy  divine. 
Among  Thy  saints,  and  bright  as  they, 

I  too  shall  ever  shine. 


There  shall  I  dwell  for  ever, 

Not  as  a  guest  alone. 
With  those  who  cease  there  never 

To  worship  at  Thy  throne ; 
There  in  my  heritage  I'll  rest. 

From  baser  things  set  free, 
And  join  the  chorus  of  the  blest 

For  ever.  Lord,  to  Thee ! 


664  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 


FM  BUT  A  STRANGER  HERE. 


F.  R.  Taylor. 


I'M  but  a  stranger  here  ; 
Earth  is  a  desert  drear, 

Heaven  is  my  home. 
Danger  and  sorrow  stand 
Round  me  on  every  hand, 
Heaven  is  my  Father-land, 

Heaven  is  my  home. 

What  though  the  tempest  rage, 
Short  is  my  pilgrimage, 

Heaven  is  my  home. 
And  time's  wild  wintry  blast 
Soon  will  be  overpast, 
I  shall  reach  home  at  last  ; 

Heaven  is  my  home. 

There,  at  my  Saviour's  side, 
I  shall  be  glorified  ; 

Heaven  is  my  home. 
There,  with  the  good  and  blest, 
Those  I  love  most  and  best, 
I  shall  for  ever  rest ; 

Heaven  is  my  home. 


THE   WAY   TO   HEAVEN.  665 

Therefore  I'll  murmur  not, 
Whate'er  my  earthly  lot ; 

Heaven  is  my  home. 
For  I  shall  surely  stand 
There  at  my  Lord's  right  hand ; — 
Heaven  is  my  Father-land, 

Heaven  is  my  home. 


JESUS  LIKE  THE  MAGNET  RAISES. 


From  Spitta,  Translated  by  Richard  Massib. 


AS  a  traveller,  returning 
To  his  home  from  some  far  land, 
Thinks  of  it  with  bosom  yearning, 

Ere  his  foot  hath  touched  the  strand  ; 
So  amid  the  noisy  pleasures 

Of  the  world,  the  heart  oft  sighs 
For  the  nobler  higher  treasures 
Laid  up  for  us  in  the  skies. 

All  our  wish  and  our  endeavor 

Is  to  love  and  please  and  choose 
Him,  who  loves  us,  nor  will  ever 

What  is  for  our  good  refuse. 
When  the  soul  without  distraction 

Sits  and  listens  at  His  feet, 
Then  she  finds  true  satisfaction 

And  a  happiness  complete. 


666  HEAVEN    IN    SONG. 

Jesus,  like  the  magnet,  raises 

Our  dull  spirits  to  the  skies. 
And  we  seem,  in  prayer  and  praises, 

As  on  eagles'  wings  to  rise  ; 
Why  we  feel  this  strong  attraction, 

Why  we  wait  for  His  command 
In  each  thought,  and  word,  and  action, 

Can  the  world  not  understand. 

Should  our  enemies  asperse  us. 

Our  dear  Lord,  who  loves  us  so. 
Bids  us  bless  e'en  them  who  curse  us, 

And  to  love  our  greatest  foe. 
He,  who  died  for  our  salvation. 

And  on  us  hath  heaven  bestowed. 
Wills  that  by  our  conversation 

We  should  glorify  our  God. 

Can  we  have  our  hearts  in  heaven. 

And  yet  earthly-minded  live? 
Can  we,  who  have  been  forgiven, 

Not  forget  and  not  forgive  ? 
Can  we  hate  an  erring  brother, 

Only  love  when  we  are  loved, 
And  not  bear  with  one  another. 

By  Christ's  Holy  Spirit  moved  ? 

Ah  !  no  hater,  or  blasphemer, 
None  who  slander  and  defame, 

Can  be  one  with  the  Redeemer, 
Who  was  gentle  as  a  lamb  ; 


THE   WAY   TO    HEAVEN.  667 

Love  will  cause  assimilation 

With  the  object  of  our  love, 
Love  will  work  a  transformation, 

And  renewal  from  above. 

None,  O  Lord,  who  are  unholy, 

Shall  thy  perfect  beauty  see  ; 
Teach  me  to  be  meek  and  lowly, 

Teach  me  to  resemble  Thee. 
Keep  me  from  the  world  unspotted, 

That  I  may  not  only  be 
To  Thy  service  here  devoted. 

But  abide  in  heaven  with  Thee. 


COME  LET  US  GO  TO  HEAVEN. 


James  Montgomery. 


COME,  let  us  go  to  heaven ; — the  way 
Like  darkness,  opens  into  day, 
When  from  the  turning-point  of  night. 
Breaks  the  first  beam  of  morning  light. 

Come  let  us  go  to  heaven  ; — our  guide 
Is  Christ  who  lived,  is  Christ  who  died, 
And  rose  again  ;  His  staff  and  rod. 
Through  Hfe  and  death,  will  lead  to  GOD. 

Come,  let  us  go  to  heaven ;  forsake 
Sin,  earth,  and  hell,  and  gladly  take 
His  easy  yoke.  His  pleasant  load, 
And  brave  the  dangers  of  the  road. 


668  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Come,  let  us  go  to  heaven ; — and  press 
On  through  the  howHng  wilderness ; 
Yet  fear  not,  little  flock,  though  foes 
Without,  within,  your  course  oppose. 

Come,  let  us  go  to  heaven, — no  power, 

Not  Satan  roaring  to  devour, 

Nor  all  his  hosts,  can  harm,  for  ye. 

Through  Christ,  shall  more  than  conquerors  be. 

Come,  let  us  go  to  heaven  ; — and  meet 
Once  and  for  ever,  round  His  feet; 
Yea,  in  Christ's  kingdom,  as  His  own. 
Sit  down  with  Him  upon  His  throne. 

Can  these  things  be  ? — they  are,  are  sure 
To  all  who  to  the  end  endure  ; 
While  unbelief  cries,  "  can  they  be  ?  " 
Come,  let  us  go  to  heaven  and  see. 


TO  HEAVEN  WE  MARCH  ON. 


James  Montgomery. 


COME  on,  companions  of  our  way, 
Who  travel  to  eternal  day 
Through  this  poor  world  of  night ; 
Give  to  the  LORD,  in  noble  songs, 
The  praise  that  to  His  name  belongs, 
As  children  of  the  light. 


THE  WAY  TO    HEAVEN.  669 

Caird  out  of  darkness,  by  His  voice, 
Be  that  clear  shining  path  our  choice, 

Which  Christ  our  captain  trod  ! 
Whether  with  flowers  and  fragrance  crown'd, 
Or  thorns  and  thistle  interwound, 

It  leads  the  soul  to  GOD. 

Though  pilgrims  in  a  vale  of  woes, 

Thick-strown  with  snares,  and  throng'd  with  foes , 

Since  jESUS  journey'd  through, 
Plant  but  your  steps  where  His  have  prest 
The  ground  once  curst, — that  ground  now  blest 

Is  heaven's  highway  for  you. 

To  heaven,  to  heaven  then  march  we  on, 
Go  where  our  conquering  LORD  hath  gone  ! 

Thus  where  He  is,  shall  we 
In  joy  behold  Him  face  to  face, 
And,  changed  by  glorifying  grace, 

Resemble  Him  we  see. 


THE    REAPER    AND    THE    FLOWERS. 


Henry  W.  Longfellow. 


THERE  is  a  Reaper  whose  name  is  Death, 
And,  with  his  sickle  keen, 
He  reaps  the  bearded  grain  at  a  breath. 
And  the  flowers  that  grow  between. 


6/0  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

"  Shall  I  have  nought  that  is  fair  ? "  saith  he ; 

"  Have  nought  but  the  bearded  grain  ? 
Though  the  breath  of  these  flowers  is  sweet  to  me, 

I  will  give  them  all  back  again." 

He  gazed  at  the  flowers  with  tearful  eyes, 

He  kissed  their  drooping  leaves  ; 
It  was  for  the  Lord  of  Paradise 

He  bound  them  in  his  sheaves. 

"  My  Lord  has  need  of  these  flowerets  gay," 

The  Reaper  said,  and  smiled  ; 
"  Dear  tokens  of  the  earth  are  they. 

Where  he  was  once  a  child. 

"  They  shall  all  bloom  in  fields  of  light, 

Transplanted  by  my  care, 
And  saints,  upon  their  garments  white, 

These  sacred  blossoms  wear." 

And  the  mother  gave,  in  tears  and  pain, 

The  flowers  she  most  did  love ; 
She  knew  she  should  find  them  all  again 

In  the  fields  of  light  above 

O  not  in  cruelty,  not  in  wrath. 

The  Reaper  came  that  day ; 
'Twas  an  angel  visited  the  green  earth 

And  took  the  flowers  away. 


THE   WAY   TO   HEAVEN.  6/1 


THUS  I  TAKE  MY  PILGRIMAGE. 


Sir  Walter  Raleigh. 


[The  antiquated  spelling  is  preserved.] 

GIUE  me  my  scallop-shell  of  quiet, 
My  staffe  of  faith  to  walk  upon, 
My  scrip  of  ioye,  (immortal  diet !) 
My  bottle  of  saluation, 
My  gowne  of  glory,  hope's  true  gage  ; 
— And  thus  1  take  my  pilgrimage. 
Blood  must  be  my  body's  balmer, 
While  my  soule,  like  peaceful  palmer, 
Travelleth  towards  the  land  of  heauen 
Other  balm  will  not  be  giuen. 
Over  the  silver  mountains, 
Where  spring  the  nectar-fountains, 
There  will  I  kiss 
The  bowle  of  bliss, 
And  drink  mine  everlasting  fill 
Upon  euery  milken  hill : 
My  soule  will  be  adry  before, 
But  after  that  will  thirst  no  more. 


672  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


COME  LET  US  LIFT  OUR  JOYFUL  EYES. 


Isaac  Watts. 


COME,  let  US  lift  our  joyful  eyes 
Up  to  the  courts  above, 
And  smile  to  see  our  Father  there, 
Upon  a  throne  of  love. 

Once  'twas  a  seat  of  dreadful  wrath, 

And  shot  devouring  flame  : 
Our  God  appeared  consuming  fire. 

And  Vengeance  was  His  name. 

Rich  were  the  drops  of  Jesus'  blood 
That  calmed  His  frowning  face, 

That  sprinkled  o'er  the  burning  throne, 
And  turned  the  wrath  to  grace. 

Now  we  may  bow  before  His  feet, 
And  venture  near  the  Lord : 

No  fiery  cherub  guards  His  seat. 
Nor  double-flaming  sword. 

The  peaceful  gates  of  heavenly  bliss 

Are  opened  by  the  Son  : 
High  let  us  raise  our  notes  of  praise, 

And  reacli  the  Almighty  throne. 


THE   WAY   TO    HEAVEN.  673 

To  Thee  ten  thousand  thanks  we  bring, 

Great  Advocate  on  high  ; 
And  glory  to  the  eternal  King, 

That  lays  His  fury  by. 


AS  EAGER  TRAVELLER  TO  THE  GOAL. 


Christina  G.  Rossetti. 


AS  eager  homebound  Traveller  to  the  goal, 
Or  steadfast  Seeker  on  an  unsearched  main, 
Or  Martyr  panting  for  an  aureole, 

My  Fellow-pilgrims  pass  me,  and  attain 
That  hidden  Mansion  of  perpetual  peace 

Where  keen  desire  and  hope  dwell  free  frorn  pain 
That  Gate  stands  open  of  perennial  ease  ; 

I  view  the  Glory  till  I  partly  long, 
Yet  lack  the  fire  of  love  which  quickens  these. 

O  passing  Angel,  speed  me  with  a  s-ong, 
A  melody  of  Heaven  to  reach  my  heart 

And  rouse  me  to  the  race  and  make  me  stronsr; 
Till  in  such  music  I  take  up  my  part. 

Swelling  those  Alleluias  full  of  rest. 
One,  tenfold,  hundredfold,  with  Heavenly  art, 

FulfilUng  north  and  south  and  east  and  west, 
Thousand,  ten  thousandfold,  innumerable. 

All  blent  in  one  yet  each  one  manifest ; 
Each  one  distinguished  and  beloved  as  well 

As  if  no  second  voice  in  earth  or  Heaven 
Were  lifted  up  the  Love  of  GOD  to  tell. 


6/4  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Ah,  Love  of  God,  which  Thine  own  Self  hast  given 
To  me  most  poor,  and  made  me  rich  in  love, 

Love  that  dost  pass  the  tenfold  seven  times  seven. 
Draw  Thou  mine  eyes,  draw  Thou  my  heart  above, 

My  treasure  and  my  heart  store  Thou  in  Thee. 
Brood  over  me  with  yearnings  of  a  dove  ; 

Be  Husband,  Brother,  closest  Friend  to  me; 
Love  me  as  very  mother  loves  her  son. 

Her  sucking  firstborn,  fondled  on  her  knee: 
Yea,  more  than  mother  loves  her  little  one  ; 

For  earthly  even  a  mother  may  forget. 
And  feel  no  pity  for  its  piteous  moan  ; 

But  Thou,  O  Love  of  GOD,  remember  yet, 
Through  the  dry  desert,  through  the  waterflood, 

(Life,  Death),  until  the  great  White  Throne  is  set. 
If  now  I  am  sick  in  chewing  the  bitter  cud 

Of  sweet  past  sin,  though  solaced  by  Thy  Grace, 
And  oft-times  strengthened  by  Thy  Flesh  and  Blood. 

How  shall  I  then  stand  up  before  Thy  Face, 
When  from  Thine  Eyes  repentance  shall  be  hid 

And  utmost  Justice  stand  in  Mercy's  place: 
When  every  sin  I  thought,  or  spoke,  or  did, 

Shall  meet  me  at  the  inexorable  Bar, 
And  there  be  no  man  standing  in  the  mid 

To  plead  for  me ;  while  star  fallen  after  star 
With  Heaven  and  earth  are  like  a  ripened  shock, 

And  all  time's  mighty  works  and  wonders  are 
Consumed  as  in  a  moment  ;  when  no  rock 

Remains  to  fall  on  me,  no  tree  to  hide, 
But  I  stand  all  creation's  gazing-stock, 

Exposed  and  comfortless  on  every  side, 


THE   WAY   TO    HEAVEN.  6/5 

Placed  trembling  in  the  final  balances 

Whose  poise  this  hour,  this  moment,  must  be  tried? 
Ah,  Love  of  God,  if  greater  Love  than  this 

Hath  no  man,  that  a  Man  die  for  His  Friend, 
And  if  such  Love  of  Love  Thine  own  Love  is, 

Plead  with  Thyself,  with  me,  before  the  end  ; 
Redeem  me  from  the  irrevocable  past ; 

Pitch  Thou  Thy  Presence  round  me  to  defend ; 
Yea,  seek  with  pierced  Feet,  yea,  hold  me  fast 

With  pierced   Hands — Whose  Wounds  were  made 
by  Love ; 
Not  what  I  am,  remember  what  Thou  wast 

When  darkness  hid  from  Thee  Thy  Heavens  above, 
And  sin  Thy  FATHER'S  Face,  while  Thou  didst  drink 

The  bitter  Cup  of  Death,  didst  taste  thereof 
For  every  man  ;  while  Thou  wast  nigh  to  sink 

Beneath  the  intense,  intolerable  rod, 
Grown  sick  of  Love :  not  what  I  am,  but  think 

Thy  Life  then  ransomed  mine,  my  GOD,  my  GOD. 


COME  LET  US    OUR  JOURNEY  PURSUE. 


Charles    Wesley. 


COME,  let  us  anew  our  journey  pursue, 
With  vigor  arise. 
And  press  to  our  permanent  place  in  the  skies. 
Of  heavenly  birth,  though  wandering  on  earth, 

This  is  not  our  place, 
But  strangers  and  pilgrims  ourselves  we  confess. 


6^6  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

At  Jesus*  call  we  gave  up  our  all ; 

And  still  we  forego, 
For  Jesus'  sake,  our  enjoyments  below. 
No  longing  we  find  for  the  country  behind  ; 

But  onward  we  move, 
And  still  we  are  seeking  a  country  above  : — 

A  country  of  joy  without  any  alloy  ; 

We  thither  repair  ; 
Our  hearts  and  our  treasure  already  are  there. 
We  march  hand  in  hand  to  Immanuel's  land  ; 

No  matter  what  cheer 
We  meet  with  on  earth,  for  eternity's  here  ! 

The  rougher  the  way,  the  shorter  our  stay  ; 

The  tempests  that  rise 
Shall  gloriously  hurry  our  souls  to  the  skies : 
The  fiercer  the  blast,  the  sooner  'tis  past ; 

The  troubles  that  come 
Shall  help   to  the  rescue,  and  hasten  us  home. 


BRETHREN,  WHILE  WE  SOJOURN    HERE. 

BRETHREN,  while  we  sojourn  here, 
Fight  we  must,  but  should  not  fear; 
Foes  we  have,  but  we've  a  friend, 
One  that  loves  us  to  the  end  : 
Forward,  then,  with  courage  go, 
Long  we  shall  not  dwell  below ; 
Soon  the  joyful  news  will  come, 
*'  Child,  your  Father  calls.  Come  home." 


THE   WAY   TO    HEAVEN.  677 

In  the  way  a  thousand  snares 

Lie  to  take  us  unawares  ; 

Satan  with  malicious  art, 

Watches  each  unguarded  heart : 

But  from  Satan's  maHce  free, 

Saints  shall  soon  in  glory  be  ; 

Soon  the  joyful  news  will  come, 

"  Child,  your  Father  calls,  Come  home.*' 

But  of  all  the  foes  we  meet, 

None  so  oft  mislead  our  feet, 

None  betray  us  into  sin. 

Like  the  foes  that  dwell  within : 

Yet  let  nothing  spoil  your  peace, 

Christ  shall  also  conquer  these  ; 

Then  the  joyful  news  will  come, 

"  Child,  your  Father  calls.  Come  home." 

THE     WEARY     ONES     REST,     FORGETTING 
THEIR  WOE. 


Marianne  Farningham. 


THEY  have  struggled  away  from  the  city  of  tears, 
They  have  broken  the  bands  that  had  bound  them 
too  long, 
They  have  shaken  off  fetters  that  held  them  for  years, 
They  are  learning  the  notes  of  the  heavenly  song. 

With  firm  step  and  rapid  they  march  up  the  hill. 
And  keen  eyes  that  look  for  the  city  of  light, 

Only  halting  awhile  by  the  bright  sparkling  rill. 
And  dreaming  of  ladders  to  heaven  by  night. 


6/8  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

They  wake  with    the    pilgrim's    strong   staff  in    their 
hands, 

And  gird  on  their  armor,  and  cheerfully  go 
Where  eternal  suns  shine  on  the  holier  lands, 

And  the  weary  ones  rest  them,  forgetting  their  woe. 

Faint  echoes  have  come  from  the  far  golden  shore. 
Foreshadowing  pictures  have  gladdened  their  eyes, 

And,  glad  for  the  fatherland  lying  before, 

They  reck  not  if  gloom  clothe  the  winter's  cold  skies. 

With  the  seal  of  the  kingdom  engraved  on  each  brow, 
And  with  hearts  that  are  restless  till  resting  at  home. 

They  are  pilgrims  and  strangers  all  sorrowful  now, 
But  shall  reign  with  the  King  when  to  Zion  they 
come- 


KNOW  YE  THE  LAND  AND  THE  WAY? 


From  the  German,  by  C.  T.  Brooks. 


KNOW  ye  the  land  ?     Oh  !  not  on  earth  it  lies 
For  which  the  heart  in  hours  of  trouble  sighs 
Where  flows  no  tear,  no  sorrow  mars  the  song. 
The  good  are  happy,  and  the  weak  are  strong. 
Know  ye  the  land  ? 

The  goal,  the  goal, 
O  friends,  is  there  !     Press  on  with  heart  and  soul. 

Know  ye  the  way,  the  rough  and  thorny  road  ? 
The  wanderer  groans  beneath  his  painful  load; 


THE    WAY   TO    HEAVEN.  679 

He  faints — he  sinks  ;  in  dust  he  lifts  his  eyes ; 
"  How  long,  O  Lord  ?''  the  weary  pilgrim  sighs. 
Know  ye  the  way  ? 

It  tends,  it  tends 
To  that  blest  land  where  every  torment  ends. 

Know  ye  the  Friend,  a  man,  a  child  of  earth. 
Yet  more,  far  more  than  all  of  human  birth? 
That  rough  and  thorny  road  his  feet  have  trod ; 
Well  can  he  guide  poor  pilgrims  home  to  God. 
Know  ye  the  Friend  ? 

His  hand,  his  hand 
Conducts  us  safely  to  our  native  land. 


COME,  ARISE,  I  AM  THE  WAY. 


Thomas  B.  Read. 


AWEARY,  wandering  soul  am  I, 
O'erburdened  with  an  earthly  weight, 
A  pilgrim  through  the  world  and  sky, 
Toward  the  celestial  gate. 

Tell  me,  ye  sweet  and  sinless  flowers 
Who  all  night  gaze  upon  the  skies, 

Have  ye  not  in  the  silent  hours 
Seen  aught  of  Paradise  ? 

Ye  birds,  that  soar  and  sing,  elate 

With  joy,  that  makes  your  voices  strong, 

Have  ye  not  at  the  golden  gate 
Caught  somewhat  of  your  song? 


68o  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Ye  waters,  sparkling  in  the  morn, 
Ye  seas,  which  glass  the  starry  night, 

Have  ye  not  from  the  imperial  bourn 
Caught  glimpses  of  its  light  ? 

Ye  hermit  oaks  and  sentinel  pines, 
Ye  mountain  forests  old  and  grey, 

In  all  your  long  and  winding  lines. 
Have  ye  not  seen  the  way  ? 

O  moon,  among  thy  starry  bowers, 

Know'st  thou  the  path  the  angels  tread  ? 

Seest  thou  beyond  thy  azure  towers 
The  shining  gates  dispread  ? 

Ye  holy  spheres,  that  sang  with  earth 
When  earth  was  still  a  sinless  star. 

Have  the  immortals  heavenly  birth 
Within  your  realms  afar? 

And  thou,  O  sun,  whose  light  unfurls 

Bright  banners  through  unnumbered  skies, 

Seest  thou  among  thy  subject  worlds 
The  radiant  portals  rise  ? 

All,  all  are  mute  ;  and  still  am  I 

O'erburdened  with  an  earthly  weight, 

A  pilgrim  through  the  world  and  sky, 
Towards  the  celestial  gate. 

No  answer,  wheresoe'er  I  roam, 
From  skies  afar  no  guiding  ray ; 

But  hark  !  the  voice  of  Christ  says,  "  Come, 
Arise,  1  am  the  way." 


TI^   WAY   TO    HEAVEN.  68 1 


IT  IS  NOT  DEATH  TO  DIE. 


George  W.  BtTHUNE. 


IT  is  not  death  to  die — 
To  leave  this  weary  road, 
And,  'mid  the  brotherhood  on  high, 
To  be  at  home  with  God. 

It  is  not  death  to  close 

The  eye  long  dimmed  by  tears, 
And  wake,  in  glorious  repose 

To  spend  eternal  years. 

It  is  not  death  to  bear 

The  wrench  that  sets  us  free 

From  dungeon  chain,  to  breathe  the  air 
Of  boundless  liberty. 

It  is  not  death  to  fling 

Aside  this  sinful  dust. 
And  rise,  on  strong  exulting  wing, 

To  live  among  the  just. 

Jesus,  Thou  Prince  of  life! 

Thy  chosen  cannot  die  ; 
Like  Thee,  they  conquer  in  the  strife, 

To  reign  with  Thee  on  high. 


682  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


THY  WAY,  N.OT  MINE. 


HORATIUS   BONAR. 


THY  way,  not  mine,  O  Lord, 
However  dark  it  be  ! 
Lead  me  by  Thine  own  hand, 
Choose  out  the  path  for  me. 

Smooth  let  it  be  or  rough. 

It  will  be  still  the  best  ; 
Winding  or  straight,  it  matters  not, 

It  leads  me  to  Thy  rest. 

I  dare  not  choose  my  lot : 

I  would  not,  if  I  might ; 
Choose  Thou  for  me,  my  God, 

So  shall  I  walk  aright. 

The  kingdom  that  I  seek 
Is  Thine  :  so  let  the  way 

That  leads  to  it  be  Thine, 
Else  I  must  surely  stray. 

Take  Thou  my  cup,  and  it 

With  joy  or  sorrow  fill, 
As  best  to  Thee  may  seem  ; 

Choose  Thou  my  good  and  ill. 


THE   WAY    TO    HEAVEN.  683 

Choose  Thou  for  me  my  friends, 

My  sickness  or  my  health, 
Choose  Thou  my  cares  for  me, 

My  poverty  or  wealth. 

Not  mine,  not  mine  the  choice. 

In  things  or  great  or  small; 
Be  Thou  my  guide,  my  strength, 

My  wisdom,  and  my  all. 


JESUS,  STILL  LEAD  ON, 


From  the  German  of  Count  Zinzendorf 


JESUS,  still  lead  on, 
Till  our  rest  be  won  ; 
And,  although  the  way  be  cheerless, 
We  will  follow,  calm  and  fearless ; 
Guide  us  by  Thy  hand 
To  our  fatherland. 

If  the  way  be  drear, 

If  the  foe  be  near. 
Let  not  faithless  fears  o'ertake  us, 
Let  not  faith  and  hope  forsake  us  ; 

For  through  many  a  foe 

To  our  home  we  go. 

When  we  seek  relief 
From  a  long-felt  grief, 


684  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

When  temptations  come  alluring, 
Make  us  patient  and  enduring  ; 
Show  us  that  bright  shore 
Where  we  weep  no  more. 

Jesus,  still  lead  on. 

Till  our  rest  be  won  ; 
Heavenly  Leader,  still  direct  us. 
Still  support,  console,  protect  us, 

Till  we  safely  stand 

In  our  fatherland. 


THROUGH    NIGHT  TO  LIGHT. 


From  the  German  of  Kosegarten. 


THROUGH  night  to  light.     And  though  to  mortal 
eyes 
Creation's  face  a  pall  of  horror  wear, 
Good  cheer,  good  cheer  !     The  gloom  of  midnight  flies; 
Then  shall  a  sunrise  follow,  mild  and  fair. 

Through  storm  to  calm.     And  though  his  thunder-car 
The  rumbling  tempest  drive  through  earth  and  sky, 

Good  cheer,  good  cheer !     The  elemental  war 
Tells  that  a  blessed  healing  hour  is  nigh. 

Through  frost  to  spring.     And  though  the  biting  blast 

Of  Eurus  stiffen  nature's  juicy  veins, 
Good  cheer.  Good  cheer  !      When   winter's  wrath    is 
past, 
Soft    murmuring  spring  breathes  sweetly   o'er    the 
plains. 


THE    WAY   TO   HEAVEN.  68$ 

Through  strife  to  peace.     And  though  with  bristling 
front 
A  thousand  frightful  depths  encompass  thee, 
Good   cheer,    good    cheer !     Brave   thou   the   battle's 
brunt, 
For  the  peace  march  and  song  of  victory. 

Through  sweat  to  sleep.  And  though  the  sultry  noon, 
With  heavy,  drooping  wing,  oppress  thee  now, 

Good  cheer,  good  cheer  !     The  cool  of  evening  soon 
Shall  lull  to  sweet  repose  thy  weary  brow. 

Through  cross  to  crown.  And  though  thy  spirit's  life 
Trials  untold  assail  with  giant  strength, 

Good  cheer,  good  cheer  !  Soon  ends  the  bitter  strife, 
And  thou  shalt  reign  in  peace  with  Christ  at  length. 

Through  woe  to  joy.  And  though  at  morn  thou  weep 
And  though  the  midnight  find  thee  weeping  still. 

Good   cheer,  good  cheer !     The  Shepherd   loves    His 
sheep; 
Resign  thee  to  the  watchful  Father's  will. 

Through  death  to  life.  And  through  this  vale  of  tears, 
And  through  this  thistle-field  of  life,  ascend 

To  the  great  supper  in  that  world  whose  years 
Of  bliss  unfading,  cloudless,  know  no  end  ! 


686  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


IS  THIS  THE  WAY,  MY  FATHER? 

IS  this  the  way,  My  Father?     'Tis,  My  child  ; 
Thou  must  pass  through  this  tangled,  dreary  wild 
If  thou  wouldst  reach  the  city  undefiled. 

Thy  peaceful  home  above. 

But  enemies  are  round.     Yes,  child,  I  know 
That  where  thou  least  expect'st  thou'lt  find  a  foe ; 
But  victor  thou  shalt  prove  o'er  all  below : 
Only  seek  strength  above. 

My  Father,  it  is  dark !     Child,  take  My  hand. 
Cling  close  to  Me  ;  I'll  lead  thee  through  the  land  : 
Trust  My  all-seeing  care  ;  so  shalt  thou  stand 
'Midst  glory  bright  above. 

My  footsteps  seem  to  slide  !     Child,  only  raise 
Thine  eye  to  Me  ;  then  in  these  slippery  ways 
I  will  hold  up  thy  goings ;  thou  shalt  praise 
Me  for  each  step  above. 

O  Father,  I  am  weary !     Child,  lean  thy  head 
Upon  My  breast.     It  was  My  love  that  spread 
Thy  rugged  path.     Hope  on,  till  I  have  said, 
'*  Rest,  rest  for  aye,  above." 


THE   WAY   TO    HEAVEN.  687 


SONG  OF  THE  SILENT  LAND. 


J.  G.  Von  Salis,    Translated  by  H.  W.  Longfellow. 


INTO  the  Silent  Land  ! 
Ah  !  who  shall  lead  us  thither  ? 
Clouds  in  the  evening  sky  more  darkly  gather, 
And  shattered  wrecks  lie  thicker  on  the  strand : 
Who  leads  us  with  a  gentle  hand, 
Thither,  O  thither, 
Into  the  Silent  Land? 

Into  the  Silent  Land ! 
To  you,  ye  boundless  regions 
Of  all  perfection  !     Tender  morning  visions 
Of  beauteous  souls  !     The  future's  pledge  and  band  ! 
Who  in  life's  battle  firm  doth  stand 
Shall  bear  hope's  tender  blossoms 

Into  the  Silent  Land  ! 

O  Land !  O  Land  ! 
For  all  the  broken-hearted, 
The  mildest  herald  by  our  fate  allotted 
Beckons,  and  with  inverted  torch  doth  stand. 
To  lead  us  with  a  gentle  hand 
Into  the  land  of  the -great  departed, 

Into  the  Silent  Land  ! 


688  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 


DOES  THE   ROAD  WIND  UP-HILL  ALL  THE 

WAY? 


Christina  G.  Rossetti. 


DOES  the  road  wind  up-hill  all  the  way? 
Yes  to  the  very  end. 
Will  the  day's  journey  take  the  whole  long  day  ? 
From  morn  to  night  my  friend. 

But  is  there  for  the  night  a  resting-place  ? 

A  roof  for  when  the  slow  dark  hours  begin. 
May  not  the  darkness  hide  it  from  my  face  ? 

You  cannot  miss  that  inn. 

Shall  I  meet  other  wayfarers  at  night  ? 

Those  who  have  gone  before. 
Then  must  I  knock,  or  call  when  just  in  sight  ? 

They  will  not  keep  you  standing  at  the  door. 

Shall  I  find  comfort,  travel-sore  and  weak? 

Of  labor  you  shall  find  the  sum. 
Will  there  be  beds  for  me  and  all  who  seek? 

Yes,  beds  for  all  who  come. 


THE   WAY    TO   HEAVEN.  689 


PILGRIMS  OF  EVERY  LAND  AND  CLIME, 


HORATIUS  BONAR. 


NOT  from  Jerusalem  alone 
To  heaven  the  path  ascends. 
As  near,  as  sure,  as  straight  the  way 
That  leads  to  the  celestial  day, 
From  farthest  realms  extends, — 
Frigid  or  torrid  zone. 

What  matters  how  or  whence  we  start? 
One  is  the  crown  to  all ; 

One  is  the  hard  but  glorious  race, 
Whatever  be  our  starting-place. 
Rings  round  the  earth  the  call 
That  says,  Arise,  depart ! 

From  the  balm-breathing,  sun-loved  isles 
Of  the  bright  Southern  Sea, 

From  the  dead  North's  cloud-shadowed  pole, 
We  gather  to  one  gladsome  goal, — 
One  common  home  in  thee, — 
City  of  sun  and  smiles ! 

The  cold  rough  billow  hinders  none, 
Nor  helps  the  calm,  fair  main  ; 

44 


690  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

The  brown  rock  of  Norwegian  gloom, 
The  verdure  of  Tahitian  bloom, 
The  sands  of  Mizraim's  plain, 
Or  peaks  of  Lebanon. 

As  from  the  green  lands  of  the  vine, 
So  from  the  snow-wastes  pale, 
We  find  the  ever  open  road 
To  the  dear  city  of  our  God, — 
From  Russian  steppe,  or  Burman  vale, 
Or  terraced  Palestine. 

Not  from  swift  Jordan's  sacred  stream 
Alone  we  mount  above  ; 

Indus  or  Danube,  Thames  or  Rhone, — 
Rivers  unsainted  and  unknown, — 
From  each  the  home  of  love 
Beckons  with  heavenly  gleam. 

Not  from  grey  Olivet  alone 
We  see  the  gates  of  light  ; 

From  Morven's  heath,  or  Jungfrau's  snow, 
We  welcome  the  descending  glow 
Of  pearl  and  chrysolite, 
And  the  unsetting  sun. 

Not  from  Jerusalem  alone 
The  church  ascends  to  God  ; 

Strangers  of  every  tongue  and  clime. 
Pilgrims  of  every  land  and  time, 
Throng  the  well-trodden  road 
That  leads  up  to  the  throne. 


THE  WAY  TO  HEAVEN.  69I 


TAKE  UP  THY  CROSS  AND  FOLLOW  ME. 

THE  way  seems  long,  dear  Leader:  and  my  feet 
Are   weary,    pressing    oft   these    thorns  :    'twere 
sweet, 
Methinks,  to  rest  :  this  heavy  cross  remove  : 
Thou  surely  need'st  not  thus  my  love  to  prove. 
"  Rest  not,  weak  heart,  nor  lay  thy  burden  down  : 
For     earth's    short    rest    would    lose    thy    heavenly 
crown." 

The  way  is  dark,  dear  Leader  ;  mists  arise 
That  hide  Thy  blessed  presence  from  my  eyes : 
I  stumble  on  this  lonely  mountain  wild : 

0  loving  Father!  spare  me,  spare  thy  child. 

"  Dost  hear  my  voice  ?     Then  follow  as  I  bade  : 
Thou'rt  safe  if  firm  on  Me  thy  trust  is  stayed." 

But  I  am  faint,  dear  Leader  :  and  I  sink ; 
My  steps  are  well-nigh  gone ;  upon  the  brink 

1  helpless  fall :  put  forth  thy  mighty  power, 
And  save  me,  loving  Father,  in  this  hour. 

"  Drink  freely  of  the  brook  that  floweth  by  ; 
Then  Hft  thy  head, — thy  Leader  still  is  nigh." 

And  must  it  thus,  dear  Leader,  ever  be? 
And  may  we  here  no  resting-place  e'er  see  ? 
Though  faint  and  weary,  light  or  dark  the  way, 
Press  forward  e'en  to  reach  heaven's  blessed  day  ? 
''  Enough  that  as  the  Master  thou  shouldst  Hve  : 
Faithful  to  death,  thou  shalt  the  crown  receive." 


692  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Onward,  dear  Jesus  !     Safely  by  Thee  led, 
Faint,  yet  pursuing,  still  the  nath  I'll  tread  : 
Gird  me  with  strength,  then  all  my  prayer  shall  be, 
**  Father,  e'en  so  ;  it  seemeth  good  to  thee  ; 
**  And,  as  my  days  Thy  strength  shall  ever  be, 
While  heaven's  eternal  glory  awaiteth  me ! " 


THROUGH  DEATH  TO  LIFE. 


Ascribed  to  Harbaugh,  an  English  author. 


HAVE  you  heard  of  the  tale  of  the  Aloe  plant, 
Away  in  the  sunny  clime, 
By  humble  growth  of  a  hundred  years. 

It  reaches  its  blooming  time  ; 
And  then  a  wondrous  bud  at  its  crown 

Bursts  into  a  thousand  flowers  ; 
This  floral  green,  in  its  beauty  seen, 

Is  the  pride  of  the  tropical  bowers, 
But  the  plant  to  the  flower  is  a  sacrifice. 
For  it  blooms  but  once,  and  in  blooming  dies  ? 

Have  you  further  heard  of  this  Aloe  plant, 

That  grows  in  the  sunny  clime  ! 
How  every  one  of  its  thousand  flowers. 

As  they  fall  in  the  blooming  time. 
Is  an  infant  tree  that  fastens  its  roots 

In  the  place  where  they  fall  to  the  ground, 
And  fast  as  they  drop  from  the  dying  stem, 

Grow  lively  and  lovely  around  ? 
By  dying  it  liveth  a  thousandfold. 
In  the  young  that  springs  from  the  death  of  the  old. 


THE   WAY   TO    HEAVEN.  C93 

Have  you  heard  the  tale  of  the  PeHcan, 

The  Arab's  Gimel  El  Bahr  ! 
That  lives  in  the  African  solitudes, 

Where  the  birds  that  live  lonely  are  ? 
Have  you  heard  how  it  loves  its  tender  young, 

And  toils  and  cares  for  their  good  ? 
It  brings  them  water  from  fountains  afar, 

And  fishes  the  sea  for  their  food; 
In  famine  it  feeds  them,  what  love  can  devise  ! 
The  blood  of  its  bosom,  and  feeding  them  dies. 

Have  you  heard  the  tale  they  tell  of  the  Swan, 

The  snow-white  bird  of  the  lake  ? 
It  noiselessly  floats  on  the  silver  wave. 

It  silently  sits  on  the  brake — 
For  it  saves  its  song  till  the  close  of  life, 

And  then  in  the  calm  still  even, 
'Mid  the  golden  rays  of  the  setting  sun, 

It  sings  as  it  soars  to  Heaven. 
And  the  blessed  notes  fall  back  from  the  skies, 
*Tis  its  only  song,  for  in  singing  it  dies. 

You  have  heard  these  tales,  shall  I  tell  you  one, 

A  greater  and  better  than  all — 
Have  you  heard  of  Him  whom  the  Heavens  adore, 

And  before  whom  the  hosts  of  them  fall  ? 
How  He  left  His  choirs  and  anthems  above, 

For  earth  in  its  wailings  and  woes, 
To  suffer  the  shame  and  pain  of  the  cross. 

And  die  for  the  life  of  His  foes? 
O  Prince  of  the  noble!  O  Saviour  Divine  ! 
What  sorrow  or  sacrifice  equal  to  Thine  ? 


694  HEAVEN    IN    SONG. 

Have  you  heard  of  this  tale — the  best  of  them  all, 

The  tale  of  the  Holy  and  True  ? 
He  dies — but  His  life  now  in  untold  souls, 

Springs  up  in  the  world  anew — 
His  seed  prevails,  and  is  filling  the  earth, 

As  the  stars  fill  the  sky  above — 
He  taught  us  to  give  up  the  love  of  life. 

For  the  sake  of  the  life  of  love — 
His  death  is  our  life — His  life  is  our  gain, 
The  joy  for  the  tear,  the  peace  for  the  pain. 

Now  hear  these  tales,  ye  weary  and  worn. 

Who  for  others  do  give  up  your  all. 
Our  Saviour  has  told  us  the  seed  that  would  grow, 

Into  earth's  dark  bosom  must  fall — 
And  pass  from  the  sight  and  die  away, 

And  then  will  the  fruit  appear. 
The  grain  that  seems  lost  in  the  earth  below. 

Will  return  manifold  in  the  ear. 
By  death  comes  life — by  loss  comes  gain ; 
Heaven's  joy  for  the  tear — heaven's  peace  for  the  pain! 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


Verily  there  is  a  reward  for  the  righteous. — Ps.  58  :  11. 

Thou  shalt  be  recompensed  at  the  resurrection  of  the  just. — Luke  14  :  14. 

Then   shall  the  righteous  shine  forth  as  the  sun  in    the   kingdom   of  their 
Father.— Matt.  13  :  43. 

Wherefore  comfort  one  another  with  these  words. — i  Thess.  4  :  18. 


MISCELLANEOUS, 


A  GOLDEN  STRING. 


W.  Blake. 


I  GIVE  you  the  end  of  a  golden  string, 
Only  wind  it  into  a  ball 
It  will  lead  you  in  at  Heaven's  gate 
Built  in  Jerusalem's  wall. 


HOW  LONG,  O  LORD? 


Helen  L.  Parmleb. 


FOR  us,  the  conflict  and  the  toil, 
The  sickness  and  the  pain  ; 
For  them — the  wiping  of  the  tears 

Which  shall  not  flow  again. 
For  us,  the  path  o'ergrown  with  thorns 

And  darkness  round  our  way  ; 
For  them — the  golden  streets  of  heaven 
And  God's  eternal  day  ! 


698  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


IN  SOME  HOUR  OF  SOLEMN  JUBILEE. 


S.  T.  Coleridge. 


IN  some  hour  of  solemn  jubilee 
The  massy  gates  of  Paradise  are  thrown 
Wide  open,  and  forth  come,  in  fragments  wild, 
Sweet  echoes  of  unearthly  melodies — 
And  odors  snatched  from  beds  of  amaranth, 
And  dews  that  from  the  crystal  river  of  Life 
Spring  up  on  freshened  wing,  ambrosial  gales  ! 
The  favored  good  man  in  his  lonely  walk 
Perceives  them,  and  his  silent  spirit  drinks 
Strange  bliss,  which  he  shall  recognize  in  Heaven, 


JESUS  MY  HOPE  OF  HEAVEN. 

AH  !  I  shall  soon  be  dying 
Time  swiftly  glides  away; 
Bnt,  on  my  Lord  relying, 
I  hail  the  happy  day. 

The  day  when  I  must  enter 
Upon  a  world  unknown  ; 

My  helpless  soul  I  venture 
On  Jesus  Christ  alone. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  699 

He  once,  a  spotless  victim, 

Upon  Mount  Calvary  bled  ; 
Jehovah  did  afflict  Him, 

And  bruise  Him  in  my  stead. 

Hence  all  my  hope  arises, 

Unworthy  as  I  am  ; 
My  soul  most  surely  prizes 

The  sin-atoning  Lamb. 

To  Him  by  grace  united, 

I  joy  in  Him  alone  ; 
And  now,  by  faith,  delighted, 

Behold  Him  on  His  throne. 

There  He  is  interceding 

For  all  who  on  Him  rest ; 
The  grace  from  Him  proceeding 

Shall  waft  me  to  His  breast. 

There  with  the  saints  in  glory 

The  grateful  song  I'll  raise, 
And  chant  my  blissful  story 

In  high,  seraphic  lays. 


700  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


DAYBREAK. 


R.  H.  Dana. 


"  The  Pilgrim  they  laid  in  a  large  upper  chamber,  whose  window  opened  to- 
wards the  sun  rising :  the  name  of  the  chamber  was  Peace  ;  where  he  slept  till 
break  of  day,  and  then  he  awoke  and  sang." — The  Pilgrim's  Progress. 

NOW,  brighter  than  the  host  that  all  night  long, 
In  fiery  armor  up  the  heavens  high 
Stood  watch,  thou  comest  to  wait  the  morning's  song, 
Thou  comest  to  tell  me  day  again  is  nigh. 
Star  of  the  dawning,  cheerful  is  thine  eye  ; 
And  yet  in  the  broad  day  it  must  grow  dim. 
Thou  seem'st  to  look  on  me,  as  asking  why 
My  mourning  eyes  with  silent  tears  do  swim  ; 
Thou  bid'st  me  turn  to  God,  and  seek  my  rest  in  Him. 

"  Canst  thou  grow  sad,"  thou  say'st.  "  as  earth  grows 

bright, 
And  sigh,  when  little  birds  begin  discourse 
In  quick,  low  voices,  ere  the  streaming  light 
Pours  on  their  nests,  as  spring  from  day's  fresh  source? 
With  creatures  innocent  thou  must  perforce 
A  sharer  be,  if  that  thine  heart  be  pure. 
And  holy  hour  like  this,  save  sharp  remorse, 
Of  ills  and  pains  of  life  must  be  the  cure. 
And  breathe  in  kindred  calm,  and  teach  thee  to  endure." 


MISCELLANEOUS.  ■  7OI 

I  feel  it  calm.     But  there's  a  sombrous  hue 

Along  that  eastern  cloud  of  deep  dull  red  ; 

Nor  glitters  yet  the  cold  and  heavy  dew ; 

And  all  the  woods  and  hilltops  stand  outspread 

With  dusky  lights,  which  warmth  nor  comfort  shed.- 

Still — save  the  bird  that  scarcely  lifts  its  song — 

The  vast  world  seems  the  tomb  of  all  the  dead — 

The  silent  city  emptied, of  its  throng, 

And  ended,  all  alike,  grief,  mirth,  love,  hate,  and  wrong. 

But  wrong,  and  hate,  and  love,  and  grief,  and  mirth, 

Will  quicken  soon  ;  and  hard,  hot  toil  and  strife. 

With  headlong  purpose,  shake  this  sleeping  earth 

With  discord  strange,  and  all  that  man  calls  life. 

With  thousand  scattered  beauties  nature's  rife, 

And  airs,  and  woods,  and  streams  breathe  harmonies ; 

Man  weds  not  these,  but  taketh  art  to  wife  ; 

Nor  binds  his  heart,  with  soft  and  kindly  ties  : 

H^  feverish,  blinded  ;  lives,  and  feverish,  sated,  dies. 

And  'tis  because  man  useth  so  amiss   • 

Her  dearest  blessings,  Nature  seemeth  sad  ; 

Else  why  should  she  in  such  fresh  hour  as  this 

Not  lift  the  veil,  in  revelation  glad, 

From  her  fair  face  ?     It  is  that  man  is  mad  ! 

Then  chide  me  not,  clear  star,  that  I  repine 

When  nature  grieves  :  nor  deem  this  heart  is  bad. 

Thou  look'st  towards  earth  ;  but  yet  the  heavens  are 

thine. 
While  I  to  earth  am  bound  :  When  will  the  heavens 

be  mine  ? 


702  HEAVEN  IN   SONG. 

If  man  would  but  his  finer  nature  learn, 
And  not  in  life  fantastic  lose  the  sense 
Of  simpler  things;  could  Nature's  features  stern 
Teach  him  be  thoughtful ;  then,  with  soul  intense, 
I  should  not  yearn  for  God  to  take  me  hence, 
But  bear  my  lot,  albeit  in  spirit  bowed, 
Remembering  humbly  why  it  is,  and  whence : 
But  when  I  see  cold  man,  of  reason  proud. 
My  solitude  is  sad — I'm  lonely  in  the  crowd. 


But  not  for  this  alone,  the  silent  tear 

Steals  to  mine  eyes,  while  looking  on  the  mom, 

Nor  for  this  solemn,  hour  :  fresh  life  is  near  ; 

But  all  my  joys !  they  died  when  newly  born. 

Thousands  will  wake  to  joy:  while  I,  forlorn. 

And,  like  the  stricken  deer,  with  sickly  eye. 

Shall  see  them  pass.     Breathe  calm — my  spirit's  torn  ; 

Ye  holy  thoughts,  lift  up  my  soul  on  high  1 

Ye  hopes  of  things  unseen,  the  far-off  world  bring  nigh  ! 


And  when  I  grieve,  oh !  rather  let  it  be 
That  I,  whom  Nature  taught  to  sit  with  her 
On  her  proud  mountains,  by  her  rolling  sea; 
Who,  when  the  winds  are  up,  with  mighty  stir 
Of  woods  and  waters,  feel  the  quickening  spur 
To  my  strong  spirit  ;  who,  as  mine  own  child, 
Do  love  the  flower,  and  in  the  ragged  burr 
A  beauty  see  ;  that  I  this  mother  mild 
Should  leave  and  go  with  care,  and  passions  fierce  and 
wild  ! 


MISCELLANEOUS.  703 

How  suddenly  that  straight  and  gHttering  shaft 
Shot  'thwart  the  earth  !     In  crown  of  living  fire 
Up  comes  the  Day!     As  if  they  conscious  quaffed 
The  sunny  flood,  hill,  forest,  city,  spire 
Laugh  in  the  wakening  light.     Go,  vain  Desire ! 
The  dusky  lights  have  gone  :  go  thou  thy  way  ! 
And  pining  Discontent,  like  them,  expire ! 
Be  called  my  chamber,  PEACE,  when  ends  the  day ; 
And  let  me  with  the  dawn,  like    PiLGRIM,  sing   and 
pray ! 


COME  TO  ME  DREAMS  OF  HEAVEN. 


Mrs.  Felicia  Hemans. 

COME  to  me,  dreams  of  heaven  ! 
My  fainting  spirit  bear 
On  your  bright  wings,  by  morning  given, 
Up  to  celestial  air. 

Away — far,  far  away, 

From  bowers  by  tempests  riven  ! 
Fold  me  in  blue,  still,  cloudless  day, 
O  blessed  dreams  of  heaven  ! 

Come  but  for  one  brief  hour. 

Sweet  dreams,  and  yet  again 
O'er  burning  thoughts  and  memory  shower 

Your  soft,  effacing  rain  ! 

Waft  me  where  gales  divine 

With  dark  clouds  ne'er  have  striven ; 
Where  living  founts  forever  shine, 

O  blessed  dreams  of  heaven  ! 


704  HEAVEN   IN    SONG. 


ON  THIS  SIDE  SIGN'S  HILL. 


lln  the  Life  of  the  Rev.  Andrew  Fuller,  the  following  hymn  is  referred  to,  as 
being  a  favorite  of  that  eminent  man  during  the  latter  pensive  years  of  his  life, 
and  especially  as  being  often  repeated  while  pacing  his  room  in  the  agonies  of  his 
last  illness.    The  authorship  is  unknown.] 


I 


SOJOURN  in  a  vale  of  tears, 

Alas,  how  can  I  sing  ? 
My  harp  doth  on  the  willows  hang. 

Distuned  in  every  string. 
My  music  is  a  captive's-chain  ; 

Harsh  sounds  my  ear.s  do  fill  ; 
How  shall  I  sing  sweet  Sion's  song. 

On  this  side  Sion's  hill  ? 

Yet  lo  !  I  hear  a  joyful  sound  ; 

"  Surely  I  quickly  come  !  *' 
Each  word  much  sweetness  doth  distil. 

Like  a  full  honeycomb. 
And  dost  thou  come,  my  dearest  Lord  ? 

And  dost  thou  surely  come  ? 
And  dost  thou  surely,  quickly  come? 

Methinks  I  am  at  home. 

Come,  then,  my  dearest,  dearest  Lord, 

My  .sweetest,  surest  friend  ; 
Come,  for  I  loathe  these  Kedar  tents  ; 

Thy  fiery  chariots  send. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  70$ 

What  have  I  here  ?     My  thoughts  and  joys 

Are  all  packed  up  and  gone  ; 
My  eager  soul  would  follow  them 

To  Thine  eternal  throne. 

What  have  I  in  this  barren  land  ? 

My  Jesus  is  not  here  ; 
Mine  eyes  will  ne'er  be  blest  until 

My  Jesus  doth  appear. 
My  Jesus  is  gone  up  to  heaven, 

To  get  a  place  for  me ; 
For  't  is  His  will  that  where  he  is 

There  should  His  servants  be. 

Canaan  I  view  from  Pisgah's  top, 

Of  Canaan's  grapes  I  taste  ; 
My  Lord,  who  sends  unto  me  here, 

Will  send  for  me  at  last. 
I  have  a  God  that  changeth  not, 

Why  should  I  be  perplext  ? 
My  God  that  owns  me  in  this  world, 

Will  own  me  in  the  next. 

Go  fearless,  then,  my  soul,  with  God, 

Into  another  room  ; 
Thou,  who  hast  walked  with  him  here. 

Go  see  thy  God  at  home. 
View  death  with  a  believing  eye  ; 

It  hath  an  angel's  face  ; 
And  this  kind  angel  will  prefer 

Thee  to  an  angel's  place. 
45 


7o6  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

The  grave  seems  but  a  'fining  pot' 

Unto  believing  eyes  ; 
For  there  the  flesh  shall  lose  its  dross, 

And  like  the  sun  shall  rise. 
The  world,  which  I  have  known  so  well, 

Hath  mocked  me  with  its  lies ; 
How  gladly  could  I  leave  behind 

Its  vexing  vanities  ! 

My  dearest  friends,  they  dwell  above ; 

Them  will  I  go  and  see ; 
And  all  my  friends  in  Christ  below 

Will  soon  come  after  me. 
Fear  not  the  trump's  earth-rending  sound, 

Dread  not  the  day  of  doom  ; 
For  He  that  is  to  be  thy  Judge, 

Thy  Saviour  is  become. 

Blest  be  my  God,  that  gives  me  light, 

Who  in  the  dark  did  grope ; 
Blest  be  my  God,  the  God  of  love, 

Who  causeth  me  to  hope. 
Here  the  words,  signet,  comfort,  staft, 

And  here  is  grace's  chain  ; 
By  these.  Thy  pledges,  Lord,  I  know 

My  hopes  are  not  in  vain. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  ^0^ 


THE  CHRISTIAN'S  HOME. 

I   HAVE  a  home  above, — 2  Cor.  v.  i 
From  sin  and  sorrow  free ; — Rev.  xxii.  3 
A  mansion  which  eternal  love — John  xiv.  2 
Designed  and  formed  for  me. —  Matt.  xxv.  34 

My  Father's  gracious  hand — Eph.  i.  3 
Has  built  this  sweet  abode, — Heb.  ix.  16 

From  everlasting  it  was  planned, — Eph.  i.  1 1 
My  dwelling-place  with  God. — Exod.  xv.  17 

My  Saviour's  precious  blood — Heb.  xi.  11,  12 

Has  made  my  title  sure  ; — Heb.  xi.  14 
He  passed  through  death's  dark  raging  flood — Ps.  xlii. 

To  make  my  rest  secure. — Heb.  x.  15 

The  Comforter  is  come, — Acts  ii.  2,  4 

The  Earnest  has  been  given  ; — Eph.  i.  13,  14 

He  leads  me  onward  to  the  home — Rom.  viii.  14 
Reserved  for  me  in  heaven. — i  Pet.  i.  4,  5 

Bright  angels  guard  my  way ; — Heb.  i.  14 

His  ministers  of  power, — Ps.  ciii.  20 
Encamping  round  me  night  and  day, — Ps.  xxxi. 

Preserve  in  danger's  hour. — 2  Kings  iv.  16,  19 

Loved  ones  are  gone  before, — i  Thess.  iv.  14 
Whose  pilgrim  days  are  done; — Heb.  xi.  13 

I  soon  shall  greet  them  on  that  shore — I  Thess.  ii.  19 
Where  partings  are  unknown. —  i  Thess.  iv.  17 


708  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

But  more  than  all  I  long — Exod.  xxxiii.  i8 

HIS  glories  to  behold, — John  xvii.  24 
Whose  smile  fills  all  that  radiant  throng — Ps.  iv.  7 

With  ecstasy  untold.— i  Cor.  ii.  6 

That  bright  yet  tender  smile — Num.  iv.  25,  26 
(My  sweetest  welcome  there)— Matt.  xxv.  34 

Shall  cheer  me  through  the  *'  little  while" — John  xiv. 
18,  19. 
I  tarry  for  Him  here. — I  Thess.  i.  10 

Thy  love,  Thou  precious  Lord, — S.  Song  i.  2 
My  joy  and  strength  shall  be, — John  xv.  10,  ii 

Till  Thou  shalt  speak  the  gladdening  word — S.  Song 
ii.  10 
That  bids  me  rise  to  Thee. — S.  Song  ii.  13 

And  then  through  endless  days,-  -Ps.  cxlv.  2 
Where  all  Thy  glories  shine, — Rev.  xxi.  23 

In  happier,  holier  strains  I'll  praise — Rev.  v.  9,  10 
The  grace  that  made  me  Thine. — Eph.  ii.  8 

Before  the  great  I  AM, — Ex.  iii.  14 
Around  His  throne  above, — Rev.  xiv.  3 

The  song  of  Moses  and  the  Lamb — Rev.  xv.  3 
We'll  sing  with  deathless  love. — S.  Song  viii.  7 


MISCELLANEOUS.  7O9 


THE  SPIRIT  GLEAMS. 


Sarah  L.  Russell. 


YE  come  to  me,  in  midnight  dreams, 
Oh  glorious  thoughts  of  heaven  ; 
And  glorious  are  the  spirit-gleams, 

That  to  my  soul  are  given 
Of  that  fair  clime,  across  whose  sky, 

No  storm-clouds  ever  sweep  ; 
Where  grief  ne'er  dims  the  radiant  eye, 
And  none  are  seen  to  weep. 

Ye  come  to  me  amid  the  care. 

That  clouds  the  weary  day, 
And  far  from  earth's  polluted  air, 

Ye  waft  my  soul  away. 
And  when  some  grief  beyond  control 

Has  bowed  me  unto  earth, 
Ye  whisper  to  my  fainting  soul, 

Of  its  immortal  birth. 

Still  come  the  tenderest  thoughts  of  thee 

When  evening  hours  creep  on. 
And  sad,  regretful  memory. 

Recalls  the  loved  and  gone. 
And  though  these  mortal  eyes  no  more 

Their  cherished  forms  may  see, 
Yet  somewhere  on  thy  radiant  shore 

I  know  they  wait  for  me. 


7IO  ilKAVKN    IN    SONG. 

Like  fragrant  zephyrs,  from  the  shore 

Of  some  far  ocean  isle, 
Ye  pass  my  fainting  spirit  o'er, 

And  every  care  beguile. 
Oh  when  the  dews  of  death  hang  chill 

Upon  my  dying  brow, 
Sweet  thoughts  of  heaven,  be  with  me  stil 

And  cheer  my  heart  as  now. 


THAT  BEAUTIFUL  WORLD  ! 

WE'RE  going  home,  we've  had  visions  bright 
Of  that  holy  land,  that  world  of  light. 
Where  the  long,  dark  night  of  time  is  past, 
And  the  morn  of  eternity  dawns  at  last  ; 
Where  the  weary  saint  no  more  shall  roam, 
But  dwell  in  a  happy,  peaceful  home  : 
Where  the  brow  with  sparkling  gems  is  crown'd, 
And  the  waves  of  bliss  are  flowing  round. 

Oh,  that  beautiful  world  !  oh,  that  beautiful  world! 

We're  going  home,  we  soon  shall  be 
Where  the  sky  is  clear,  and  all  are  free  ! 
Where  the  victor's  son^  floats  o'er  the  plains, 
And  the  seraph's  anthems  blend  with  its  strains  ; 
Where  the  sun  rolls  down  its  brilliant  flood. 
And  beams  on  a  world  that  is  fair  and  good  ; 
Where  stars,  once  dimm'd  at  nature's  doom, 
Will  ever  shine  o'er  the  new  earth's  bloom. 

Oh,  that  beautiful  world  !  oh,  that  beautiful  world! 


MISCELLANEOUS.  7II 

'Mid  the  ransom'd  throng,  'mid  the  sea  of  bhss, 

Mid  the  holy  city's  gorgeousness  ; 

Mid  the  verdant  plains,  'mid  angels'  cheer, 
'Mid  the  saints  that  round  the  throne  appear; 
Where  the  conqueror's  song,  as  it  sounds  afar, 
Is  wafted  on  the  ambrosial  air  ; 
Through  endless  years  we  then  shall  prove 
The  depth  of  a  Saviour's  matchless  love. 

Oh,  that  beautiful  world  !  oh,  that  beautiful  world  ! 


CHRIST  IN  HEAVEN. 

WHEN  on  my  new-fledged  wings  I  rise 
To  tread  those  shores  beyond  the  skies, 
What  object  first  should  meet  my  eyes, 
And  where  should  I  begin  my  joys  ? 
I'll  run  through  every  golden  street 
And  ask  each  blissful  soul  I  meet, 
Where  is  the  God  whose  praise  ye  sing? 
O  lead  me,  stranger,  to  your  King ! 


SAINTS  COMMUNING  IN  HEAVEN. 


Edward  Henry  Bickersteth. 


OFT  in  my  mansion  would  some  elder  saint 
(For  dignity  was  there  humility) 
Linger  and  tell  his  story,  or  ask  mine  ; 
Or  I  would  listen  from  an  infant's  lip 
A  tale  of  such  delightsomeness  as  poured 


712  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

New  meaning  into  words  henceforth.     And  oft 

A  group  of  the  beautified,  enlink'd 

In  all  the  bonds  of  holy  lineage, 

Would  cluster  underneath  the  trees  of  life, 

One  eye  kindling  another,  one  deep  thought 

Waking  another  thought,  and  this  another, 

Until  all  bosoms  overflow'd  with  love, 

And  all  perforce  would  hasten  to  the  throne, 

And  at  their  Father's  footstool  pour  their  hearts 

In  one  full  tide  of  rapture  forth. 

Sweet  was  the  intercourse  of  saint  with  saint ; 
Nor  less  of  saints  with  angels.     Now  appear'd 
The  lustrous  promise  which  ordain'd  at  first 
That  in  Messiah's  Bridal,  angelhood 
Should  find  its  perfected  felicity  : 
Whether  rejoicing  in  the  Bridegroom's  joy ; 
Or  drinking  in  the  beauty  of  the  Bride  ; 
Or  with  some  ward,  as  Oriel  oft  with  me 
Retracing  in  astonish'd  retrospect, 
How  good  from  evil,  light  from  darkness  sprang 
By  counsel  of  All-wise,  Almighty  love. 


DEGREES  IN  HEAVEN. 


Bishop  Mant. 


IF  loftier  posts  superior  state  declare  ; 
More  virtuous  acts  if  ampler  meeds  requite  ; 
If  brightest  crowns  on  noblest  prowess  light, 
And  well-sown  fields  a  fuller  harvest  bear ; 


MISCELLANEOUS.  713 

If  thrones,  dominions,  princedoms,  powers  there  arc 
Which  God's  inferior  hosts  excel  in  might, 
If  day's  bright  orb  outshine  the  lamp  of  night. 

And  Hesper's  radiance  the  remotest  star  : 

Then  shall  the  younger  brethren  of  the  sky, 
If  right  I  scan  the  records  of  their  fate, 

In  varied  ranks  of  social  harmony 

God's  mount  encircle.     Glorious  is  the  state 

E'en  of  the  lowest  there  :  but  seats  more  nigh 
The  Sovereign's  throne  His  greater  servants  wait. 


DESCRIPTION  OF  HEAVEN. 


Edward  Henry  Bickersteth. 


BEFORE  us  now  it  rose,  builded  aloft 
Upon  the  heavenly  Zion.     Never  eye 
Of  mortal  man  had  seen,  nor  ear  had  heard, 
Though  ravish'd  with  the  distant  fame  thereof, 
Glory  Hke  this  ;  the  handiwork  of  God, 
And  fashion'd  of  heaven's  choice  material,  light, 
Through  which  the  Light  of  Light  translucent  shone 
The  mansion  of  Creation's  Architect  ; 
The  palace  of  the  Everlasting  King  : 
Its  gates  of  pearl,  its  edifice  of  gold  ; 
Its  very  streets  of  pure  crystalline  gold  ; 
Its  walls  on  twelve  foundations  superposed 
(Of  which  divine  realities  the  earth 
Can  only  lend  its  feeble  semblances). 
The  jasper  streak'd  with  many  a  tender  dye, 
The  sapphire  of  celestial  blue  serene, 


714  M  HAVEN   IN   SONG. 

The  agate  once  Chalcedon's  peerless  boast, 

The  fathomless  repose  of  emerald, 

The  ruby,  and  blood-tinctured  sardonyx, 

The  chrysolite  like  amber  sheathing  fire. 

The  beryl  emulous  of  ocean's  sheen, 

The  opal-tinted  topaz  clear  as  glass, 

The  soft  pale  purple  of  the  chrysoprase, 

The  Meliboean  hyacinth,  and  last 

The  lucid  violet  of  amethyst. 

But  not  of  pearly  gates,  or  golden  streets, 

Or  bulwarks,  or  foundations  built  of  jewels 

Thought  we  that  day,  or  lingered  to  admire  ; 

For  we  were  on  our  way  to  meet  our  God. 

The  city  had  no  temple  ;  for  itself 
From  wall  to  wall,  from  base  to  pinnacle, 
Was  one  harmonious  veilless  sanctuary, 
One  Holiest  of  all :  of  which  the  shrine 
Reveal'd  amid  the  clouds  of  Sinai 
Yielded  the  earliest  pattern.     This  the  house 
Which  Israel's  royal  seer  in  symbol  saw, 
And  by  the  Spirit's  hand  on  his  described. 
This  the  beloved  apostle,  rapt  in  spirit 
To  some  high  watch  among  the  lasting  hills, 
Beheld.     Most  blessed,  beatific  sight  ! 
Here  veil'd  in  radiant  clouds,  clouds  only  call'd 
From  the  supreme  of  brightness  they  enfolded, 
Was  set  the  throne  of  Majesty  in  heaven. 
In  front  seven  ever-burning  lamps  of  fire, 
Which  are  the  Spirits  of  God  :  and  round  about 
Mysterious  cherubim,  instinct  with  eyes, 
Fourfold  in  glory,  symbolized  in  forms 


MISCELLANEOUS.  71$ 

Of  lion-like  imperial  royalty, 

Of  patient  sacrificial  ministry, 

Of  human,  more  than  human  sympathy, 

Of  soaring  eagle-plumed  intelligence, 

Most  highest  of  all  creatures,  whereof  each 

Caught  and  reflected  some  peculiar  rays, 

Some  distinct  aspect  of  his  Lord ;  but  all 

Uniting  in  one  everlasting  song, 

Cried,  "  Holy,  Holy,  Holy,  Lord  of  hosts." 

And  here  around  were  four-and-twenty  thrones 

In  wider  circuit,  like  a  starry  belt, 

And  on  them  four-and-twenty  hierarchs 

In  priestly  apparel,  but  with  kingly  crowns. 

Sitting  sublime.     And  in  mid  view,  behold, 

What  seem'd  the  likeness  of  a  sea  of  glass. 

But  not  on  glassy  sea,  or  royal  priests, 

Or  cherubim  of  glory  gazed  we  then  ; 


PARADISE  IN  A  SYMBOL. 


Christina  G.  Rossettf. 


GOLDEN-WINGED,  silver-winged, 
Winged  with  flashing  flame, 
Such  a  flight  of  birds  I  saw, 

Birds  without  a  name  : 
Singing  songs  in  their  own  tongue 
(Song  of  songs)  they  came. 

One  to  another  calling, 
Each  answering  each, 
One  to  another  calling 


7l6  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

In  their  proper  speech  : 
High  above  my  head  they  wheeled, 
Far  out  of  reach. 

On  wings  of  flame  they  went  and  came 

With  a  cadenced  clang, 
Their  silver  wings  tinkled, 

Their  golden  wings  rang, 
The  wind  it  whistled  through  their  wings 

Where  in  Heaven  they  sang. 

They  flashed  and  they  darted 

Awhile  before  mine  eyes, 
Mounting,  mounting,  mounting  still 

In  haste  to  scale  the  skies — 
Birds  without  a  nest  on  earth, 

Birds  of  Paradise. 

Where  the  moon  riseth  not, 

Nor  sun  seeks  the  west, 
There  to  sing  their  glory 

Which  they  sing  at  rest, 
There  to  sing  their  love-song 

When  they  sing  their  best  : 

Not  in  any  garden 

That  mortal  foot  hath  trod, 

Nor  in  any  flowering  tree 

That  springs  from  earthly  sod, 

But  in  the  garden  where  they  dwell, 
The  Paradise  of  GOD. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  71/ 


THE  LAND  TO  WHICH  I'M  GOING. 

WHEN,  the  death-dews  dim  my  eyes, 
And  my  bosom  panting  lies, 
Ebbing  life's  receding  sighs 
Shorter,  fainter  growing ; 
Ere  my  spirit  breaks  her  way, 
Through  her  prison-walls  of  clay, 
Into  realms  of  endless  day — 
The  land  to  which  I'm  going. 

May  the  dear  familiar  band 

Of  weeping  friends  that  round  me  stand. 

Watching  the  decreasing  sand, 

Fast  and  faster  flowing, 
Chant  some  low  strain,  blending  well 
With  the  solemn  passing  bell, 
Of  the  holy  home  to  tell ; — 

The  land  to  which  I'm  going. 

Let  them  sing  **Thy  Saviour,  guide, 
For  thy  guilty  sake  that  died, 
Even  now  is  by  thy  side, 

Comfort-thoughts  bestowing. 
Angelic  forms  their  arms  extend, 
And  smileth  many  a  long-lost  friend 
Glad  welcome  to  thy  journey's  end — 

The  land  to  which  thou'rt  going. 


71 8  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Then,  as  the  burden  of  their  song 
In  faint  sweet  cadence  dies  along, 
One  happy,  radiant  look  among 

That  group  of  mourners  throwing  ;- 
Just  as  they  faded  from  my  view, 
I  fain  would  breat4ie  one  fond  adieu, 
Till  in  that  land  we  meet  anew — 

The  land  to  which  I'm  going. 


THEY   ARE   NOT   DEAD. 

"  She  is  not  dead,  but  sleepeth." 
"  There  is  no  death, — what  seems  so,  is  Transition." 

I  CANNOT  feel  them  dead, 
Those  loved  ones  in  the  sky  ! — 
To  leave  the  paths  that  mortals  tread, 
And  soar  where  seraph  feet  are  led. 
O'er  sapphire  pavements  overhead, — 
Sure  this  is  not  to  die  ! 

To  go,  with  pleasant  dreams, 

To  rest  beneath  Death's  wave, — 
And  wake  where  flow  immortal  streams,- 
Where  everything  in  sunshine  gleams, — 
Amid  the  bright  Shekinah's  beams  ! — 
Is  not  to  find  a  grave  ! 

To  slumber  'neath  the  sod, — 

Like  flowers  at  Frost-King's  breath, — 
Then  bursting  from  his  icy  rod, 


MISCELLANEOUS. 

Shake  off  the  valley's  cumb'ring  clod, 
iVnd  rise  all  beautified  to  God  I — 
This  does  not  seem  like  death  ! 

How  can  it  e'er  be  said 

Of  those  who  live  on  high  ? — 
When  the  dark  river  round  them  spread, 
They  meekly  bowed  their  waiting  head, 
And  laid  it  on  a  downy  bed  ! — 

But  Christians  do  not  die  ! 

They  only  go  to  rest, — 

As  goes  the  bird  and  bee  ; — 
They  wake  the  white-robed  angels'  guest  !- 
Like  them  in  wedding  garments  drest, — 
With  them  to  share  the  banquet  blest 

Of  immortality! 

Oh  !  no, — they  are  not  dead  ! 

For  Christians  cannot  die  ! — 
But  if  like  them  we  patient  tread 
The  hidden  path  where  they  were  led, — 
I  know  a  voice  all  truth  hath  said, 

We'll  meet  them  by-and-by ! 


719 


720  HEAVEN   IN    SONG. 


THE    CHARMER. 


Mrs.  Harriet  Bbecher  Stowb. 


["  Socrates. — '  However,  you  and  Simmias  appear  to  me  as  if  you  wished  to 
sift  this  subject  more  thoroughly,  and  to  be  afraid,  like  children,  lest  on  the  soul's 
departure  from  the  body,  winds  should  blow  it  away.'     .... 

"  Upon  this,  Cebes  said,  '  Endeavor  to  search  us  better,  Socrates.  .  •  Per- 
haps there  is  a  childish  spirit  in  our  breast,  that  has  such  a  dread.  Let  us  endeavor 
to  persuade  him  not  to  be  afraid  of  death,  as  of  hobgoblins.' 

" '  But  you  must  charm  him  every  day,'  said  Socrates,  '  until  you  have  quieted 
his  fears.' 

" '  But  whence,  Oh  Socrates,'  he  said,  '  can  we  procure  a  skilful  charmer  for 
such  a  case,  rvovi  yon  are  about  to  leave  us.' 

" '  Greece  is  wide,  Cebes,'  he  replied,  '  and  in  it  surely  there  are  skilful  men, 
and  there  are  also  many  barbarous  nations,  all  of  which  you  should  search,  seeking 
such  a  charmer,  sparing  neither  money  nor  toil,  as  there  is  nothing  on  which  you 
can  more  reasonably  spend  your  money."  " — Last  conversation  of  Socrates  -with  his 
disciples y  as  narrated  by  Plato  in  the  Fhaedo.'] 

WE  need  that  CHARMER,  for  our  hearts  are  sore, 
With  longings  for  the  things  that  may  not  be, 
Faint  for  the  friends  that  shall  return  no  more, 
Dark  with  distrust,  or  wrung  with  agony. 

What  is  this  Hfe  ?  and  what  to  us  is  death  ? 

Whence  came  we  ?  whither  go?  and  where  are  those 
Who,  in  a  moment,  stricken  from  our  side, 

Passed  to  that  land  of  shadow  and  repose? 

Are  they  all  dust  ?  and  dust  must  we  become? 

Or  are  they  living  in  some  unknown  clime  ? 
Shall  we  regain  them  in  that  far-off  home. 

And  live  anew  beyond  the  waves  of  time? 


MISCELLANEOUS.  721 

0  Man  divine  ! — on  Thee  our  souls  have  hung, 
Thou  wert  our  teacher  in  these  questions  high, 

But  ah !  this  day  divides  Thee  from  our  side, 
And  veils  in  dust  Thy  kindly  guiding  eye. 

Where  is  that  CHARMER,  whom  thou  bid'st  us  seek  ? 

On  what  far  shores  may  His  sweet  voice  be  heard  ? 
When  shall  these  questions  of  our  yearning  souls 

Be  answered  by  the  bright  Eternal  Word  } 

So  spake  the  youth  of  Athens,  weeping  round 
When  Socrates  lay  calmly  down  to  die ; 

So  spake  the  sage,  prophetic  of  the  hour 

When  earth's  fair  Morning  Star  should  rise  on  high. 

They  found  Him  not,  those  youths  of  soul  divine, 
Long  seeking,  wandering,  watching  on  life's  shore — 

Reasoning,  aspiring,  yearning  for  the  light. 

Death  came  and  found  them — doubting  as  before. 

But  years  passed  on — and  lo  !  the  Charmer  came — 
Pure,  silent,  sweet,  as  comes  the  silver  dew, — 

And  the  world  knew  him  not — he  walked  alone — 
Encircled  only  by  his  trusting  few. 

Like  the  Athenian  sage  rejected,  scorned. 

Betrayed,  condemned,  his  day  of  doom  drew  nigh, 

He  drew  his  faithful  few  more  closely  round. 
And  told  them  that  his  hour  was  come  to  die. 

"  Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled,*'  then  He  said  ; 
My  father's  house  hath  mansions  large  and  fair ; 

1  go  before  you  to  prepare  your  place  ; 

I  will  return  to  take  you  with  me  there. 
46 


722  HKAVEN   IN   SONG. 

And  since  that  hour  the  awful  Foe  is  charmed, 
And  life  and  death  are  glorified  and  fair. 

Whither  He  went  we  know — the  way  we  know — 
And  with  firm  step  press  on  to  meet  Him  there. 


THE  ALPINE  SHEPHERD. 


Mrs.  Maria  Lowell. 


AFTER  our  child's  untroubled  breath 
Up  to  the  Father  took  its  way, 
And  on  our  home  the  shade  of  death 
Like  a  long  twilight  haunting  lay, 

And  friends  came  round  with  us  to  weep 

Her  little  spirit's  swift  remove, 
This  stor\  of  the  Alpine  sheep 

Was  told  to  us  by  one  we  love  : — 

"  They,  in  the  valley's  sheltering  care, 
Soon  crop  the  meadow's  tender  prime, 

And  when  the  sod  grows  brown  and  bare, 
The  shepherd  strives  to*  make  them  climb, 

"  To  airy  shelves  of  pastures  green. 
That  hang  along  the  mountain's  side, 

Where  grass  and  flowers  together  lean, 

And  down  through  mist  the  sunbeams  slide. 

"  But  naught  can  tempt  the  timid  things 
That  steep  and  rugged  path  to  try, 

Though  sweet  the  shepherd  calls  and  sings, 
And  seared  below  the  pastures  lie, — 


MISCELLANEOUS.  723 

"  Till  in  his  arms  their  lambs  he  takes, 

Along  the  dizzy  verge  to  go, 
Then,  heedless  of  the  lifts  and  breaks, 

They  follow  on  o'er  rocks  and  snow. 

"  And  in  those  pastures  lifted  fair, 
More  dewy  soft  than  lowland  mead, 

The  shepherd  drops  his  tender  care, 
And  sheep  and  lambs  together  feed." 

This  parable,  by  nature  breathed, 

Blew  on  me  as  the  south-wind  free 
O'er  frozen  brooks  that  float  unsheathed 

From  icy  thraldom  to  the  sea. 

A  blissful  vision  through  the  night 

Would  all  my  happy  senses  sway, 
Of  the  good  shepherd  on  the  height, 

Or  climbing  up  the  stony  way. 

Holding  our  little  lamb  asleep  ; 

And,  like  the  burden  of  the  sea, 
Sounded  that  voice  along  the  deep. 

Saying,  ^^  Arise  ^  and  follow  meT 


VIEW  OF  HEAVEN. 


Edward  Henry  Bickerstbth. 


F 


OR  we  were  on  our  way  to  meet  our  God, 
Children  about  to  see  their  Fathers  face. 
But  at  last 


724  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

It  seem'd  as  rising  from  the  sapphire  throne 

Messiah  led  us  forth  at  large  to  view 

The  city  Himself  had  builded  and  prepared 

After  His  Father's  counsel  for  His  Bride, 

A  city,  or  a  temple,  or  a  home, 

Or  rather  all  in  one.     Enrich'd  it  was 

With  every  exquisite  design  of  love, 

And  every  form  of  beauty.     Not  a  film 

Stain'd  its  bright  pavement  of  transparent  gold  ; 

Not  a  harsh  murmur  vex'd  its  silences. 

Or  with  the  melodies  of  angels  jarr'd. 

No  cloud  darken'd  its  empyrean.     Joy 

Held  court  here  in  its  own  metropolis. 

And  through  the  midst  the  crystal  river  flow'd 

Exhaustless  from  the  everlasting  throne, 

Shaded  on  either  side  by  trees  of  life 

Which  yielded  in  unwearying  interchange 

Their  ripe  vicissitude  of  monthly  fruits 

Amid  their  clustering  leaves  medicinal ; 

Of  fruits  twelve  manner:  for  eternity. 

Measured  by  ages  limitless  to  man, 

Has  intervals  and  periods  of  bliss 

And  high  recurring  festivals  that  stand 

On  the  sidereal  calends  mark'd  in  light. 

Through  these  celestial  groves  the  Lamb  of  God 

Led  us  delighted.     Every  sight  and  sound 

Ravish'd  the  sense  :  and  every  loving  heart 

Reflected  joy  to  joy  and  light  to  light, 

Like  crystals  in  a  cave  flashing  with  fire, 

And  multiplied  our  bliss  a  million-fold. 

O  blessed  royal  priesthood  !  priests  and  kings 

Under  the  Great  High  Priest  and  Prince  of  Peace, 


MISCELLANEOUS.  725 

Who  now  in  tender  grace  assign'd  to  each 
His  priestly  abode  within  the  House  of  God 
(So  Solomon  around  his  temple  built 
The  chambers  for  its  stated  ministries), 
Where  each  might  be  alone  with  God,  or  mix 
In  converse  with  his  fellow-saints  at  will, 
Adorn'd  with  those  peculiar  gifts  He  knew, 
Who  knows  us  better  than  we  know  ourselves, 
Would  gratify  those  tastes  and  feelings  most 
Himself  had  planted  :  delicate  dehghts  ; 
If  little,  loving  from  their  littleness, 
Which  nought  but  Love  could  ever  have  devised  ; 
If  rich  and  large,  more  precious  from  the  love 
That  gave  them  than  from  excellence  or  cost ; 
The  bounties  of  a  Father's  thoughtfulness, 
The  tokens  of  the  Bridegroom's  tenderness. 
Gifts  of  the  Spirit  and  with  His  love  instinct. 


DESIRING  HEAVEN, 


L.  Hartsough. 


LET  me  go  where  saints  are  going, 
To  the  mansions  of  the  blest  ; 
Let  me  go  where  my  Redeemer 

Has  prepared  His  people's  rest. 
I  would  gain  the  realms  of  brightness, 

Where  they  dwell  for  evermore  ; 
I  would  join  the  friends  that  wait  me, 
Over  on  the  other  shore. 


726  HEAVEN    IN    SONG. 


Let  me  go  ;  'tis  Jesus  calls  me  ; 

Let  me  gain  the  realms  of  day  ; 
Bear  me  over,  angel  pinions  ; 

Longs  my  soul  to  be  away. 

Let  me  go  where  none  are  weary — 

Where  is  raised  no  wail  of  woe ; 
Let  me  go  and  bathe  my  spirit 

In  the  raptures  angels  know. 
Let  me  go,  for  bliss  eternal 

Lures  my  soul  away,  away, 
And  the  victor's  song  triumphant 

Thrills  my  heart ;  I  cannot  stay. 

Let  me  go  ;  why  should  I  tarry? 

What  has  earth  to  bind  me  here  ? 
What  but  cares  and  toils  and  sorrows  ? 

What  but  death  and  pain  and  fear? 
Let  me  go.  for  hopes  most  cherished, 

Blasted  round  me  often  lie, 
O  !  I've  gathered  brightest  flowers, 

But  to  see  them  fade  and  die. 

Let  me  go  where  tears  and  sighing 

Are  for  evermore  unknown. 
Where  the  joyous  songs  of  glory 

Call  me  to  a  happier  home. 
Let  nie  go — I'd  cease  this  dying, 

I  would  gain  life's  fairer  plains. 
Let  me  join  the  myriad  harpers. 

Let  me  chant  their  rapturous  strains. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  72/ 

Let  me  go,  O  speed  my  journey, 

Saints  and  seraphs  lure  away, 
O !  I  almost  feel  the  raptures 

That  belong  to  endless  day. 
Oft  methinks  I  hear  the  singing 

That  is  only  heard  above, 
Let  me  go,  O !  speed  my  going, 

Let  me  eo  where  all  is  love. 


DREAMS  OF  HEAVEN. 


Mrs.  F.  D.  Hemans. 


DREAM'ST  thou  of  heaven  7 — what  dreams  are 
thine. 
Fair  child,  fair,  gladsome  child. 
With  eyes  that  like  the  dew-drop  shine, 
And  bounding  footsteps  wild  ? 

Tell  me  what  hues  the  immortal  shore 

Can  wear,  my  bird,  to  thee. 
Ere  yet  one  shadow  hath  passed  o'er 

Thy  glance  and  spirit  free  ? 

**  O,  beautiful  is  heaven  and  bright, 

With  long,  long  summer-days  ; 
I  see  its  lilies  gleam  in  light. 

Where  many  a  fountain  plays. 

"And  there,  unchecked,  methinks  I  rove, 

And  seek  where  young  flowers  lie. 
In  vale  and  golden-fruited  grove. 

Flowers  that  are  not  to  die  !  " 


728  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 

Thou  poet  of  the  lonely  thought. 

Sad  heir  of  gifts  divine  ! 
Say,  with  what  solemn  glory  fraught 

Is  heaven  in  dreams  of  thine? 

**  O,  where  the  living  waters  flow 

Along  that  radiant  shore, 
My  soul,  a  wanderer  here,  shall  know 

The  exile-thirst  no  more. 

"  The  burden  of  a  stranger^s  heart. 

Which  here  along  I  bear, 
Like  the  night-shadow  shall  depart, 

With  my  first  wakening  there. 

"  And,  borne  on  eagles'  wings  afar. 
Free  thought  shall  claim  its  dower. 

From  every  realm,  from  every  star. 
Of  glory  and  of  power." 

O  woman !  with  the  soft,  sad  eye 

Of  spiritual  gleam, 
Tell  me,  of  those  bright  worlds  on  high. 

How  doth  thy  fond  heart  dream  ? 

By  thy  sweet,  mournful  voice  I  know, 

On  thy  pale  brow  I  see, 
That  thou  hast  loved  in  fear  and  woe ; 

Say,  what  is  heaven  to  thee  ? 

"  O,  heaven  is  where  no  secret  dread 
May  haunt  love's  meeting  hour; 

Where  from  the  past  no  gloom  is  shed 
O'er  the  heart's  chosen  bower  ; 


MISCELLANEOUS.  729 

**  Where  every  severed  wreath  is  bound ; 

Where  none  have  heard  the  knell 
That  smites  the  heart  with  that  deep  sound, 

Farewell,  beloved — farewell." 


EMPLOYMENT  IN  HEAVEN. 


Edward  Henry  Bickerstkth. 


SERVICE  there  is  rest, 
Rest,  service :  for  the  Paradise  of  sain-ts, 
Like  Eden  with  its  toilless  husbandry, 
Has  many  plants  to  tend,  and  flowers  to  twine, 
And  fruit  trees  in  the  garden  of  the  soul, 
That  ask  the  culture  of  celestial  skill. 
Some  wander'd  amid  vines  and  flowery  meads, 
And  from  the  grateful  lips  of  angels  learn'd 
More  virtues  than  he  knew  who  spake  of  trees 
From  cedars  to  the  hyssop  on  the  wall. 
Some  perfected  their  skill  in  dance  and  song, 
With  lyre  or  lute  accompanied,  and  made 
These  woods  and  valleys  vocal  with  sweet  sounds, 
Sweeter  than  those  which  from  a  thousand  birds 
Fill  Vallombrosa's  vale  in  spring-time.     Here 
It  was  perpetual  spring.     Some  clomb  with  ease. 
Swift  as  the  winds,  the  everlasting  hills, 
And  from  their  summit  bathed  in  light  survey'd 
The  glorious  landscape.     Some  in  silence  mused  : 
Heaven  has  its  calm  unbroken  solitudes 
For  prayer  and  lonely  meditation  meet. 
And  some  in  clusters,  walking  or  recline, 


730  HEAVEN    IN   SONG. 

Heard  from  an  elder  saint  or  guardian  spirit 
The  awful  story  of  the  past,  or  bent 
Over  the  mystic  chart  of  prophecy, 
Brother  to  brother  saying,  '^  It  is  done. 
The  day-spring  is  at  hand." 


ENTERING  HEAVEN. 


H 


ERE  is  no  bootless  quest; 
The  city's  name  is  Rest ; 

Here  shall  no  fear  appall  ; 

Here  love  is  all  in  all ; 
Here  shalt  thou  win  thy  ardent  soul's  desire  ; 
Here  clothe  thee  in  thy  beautiful  attire. 

Lift,  lift  thy  wondering  eyes  ! 

Yonder  is  Paradise, 

And  this  fair  shining  band 

Are  spirits  of  that  land  ! 
And  these  that  throng  to  meet  thee  are  thy  kin, 
Who  have  awaited  thee,  redeemed  from  sin  ! 
The  city  gates  unfold  ;  enter,  O  enter  in ! 


EPITOME  OF  HEAVEN. 


Edward  Henry  Bickersteth. 


ZrON  is  our  home  ; 
Jerusalem,  the  city  of  our  God. 
O  happy  home  !  O  happy  children  here  I 
O  blissful  mansions  of  our  Father's  house ! 


MISCELLANEOUS.  731 

O  walks  surpassing  Eden  for  delight  ! 

Here  are  the  harvests  reap'd  once  sown  in  tears  ; 

Here  is  the  rest  by  ministry  enhanced  : 

Here  is  the  banquet  of  the  wine  of  heaven, 

Riches  of  glory  incorruptible, 

Crowns,  amaranthine  crowns  of  victory. 

The  voice  of  harpers  harping  on  their  harps, 

The  anthems  of  the  holy  cherubim, 

The  crystal  river  of  the  Spirit's  joy, 

The  Bridal  palace  of  the  Prince  of  Peace, 

The  Holiest  oi  Holies — God  is  here. 


ESTIMATE  OF  HEAVEN. 


James  Shirley. 


WHAT  a  poor  value  do  men  set  on  heaven ! 
Heaven,  the  perfection  of  all  that  can 
Be  said,  or  thought,  riches,  delight,  or  harmony, 
Health,  beauty ;  and  all  this  not  subject  to 
The  waste  of  time  ;  but  in  their  height  eternal ; 
Lost  for  a  pension  or  a  poor  spot  of  earth, 
Favor  of  greatness,  or  an  hour's  faint  pleasure, 
As  men,  in  scorn  of  a  true  flame  that's  near, 
Shall  run  to  light  their  tapers  at  a  glow-worm. 


732  HEAVEN   IN   SONG. 


LAND  IN  SIGHT. 

[The  old  commander  drew  near  the  end  of  the  eventful  voyage  of  life,  and  be- 
came too  feeble  to  hold  any  connected  conversation  ;  he  said  to  the  friends  who 
gathered  about  his  dying  bed,  in  the  impressive  language  of  the  sea,  "  Land  in 
sight."  Once  more,  just  before  he  expired,  he  was  asked  how  he  now  felt,  and  if 
Christ  was  still  precious  to  him.  He  replied  faintly,  "  Let  go  th«  anchor,"  fell 
back  upon  his  pillow,  and  died.] 


L 


AND  in  sight, 
The  glorious  land  of  light  ! 
E'en  now  its  pearly  gates  my  eyes  behold, 
Adorned  with  jewels  rare, 
Oh,  sight  most  wondrous  fair ! 
And  streets  with  pavements  all  of  shining  gold. 

Land  in  sight, 

The  glorious  land  of  light ! 
E'en  now  its  happy,  sainted  throng  I  see, 

And  on  my  eager  ear. 

Full,  sweet,  and  rising  clear. 
Swells  the  glad  tide  of  holy  harmony. 

Land  in  sight, 

The  glorious  land  of  light! 
There  sits  the  Holy  One,  once  crucified, 

Who  all  our  sufferings  bore 

When  human  flesh  he  wore 
And  shed  for  us  his  blood,  a  crimson  tide. 

Upon  the  strand 

Of  the  bright,  better  land, 


MISCELLANEOUS.  733 

My  anchor  cast  secure  within  the  veil, 

Oh,  blest  and  heavenly  soil, 

No  pain,  nor  care,  nor  toil, 
Nor  load  of  sin  thy  children  ere  bewail. 

The  stream  is  past, 

Heaven's  portal  gained  at  last ! 
Never  again,  my  soul,  from  Christ  to  roam. 

Shout  thou  through  endless  days 

His  great  and  endless  praise, 
Who  brought  the  captive  exile  safely  home. 


ii 


INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES. 


PAGE 

A  FEW  more  years  shall  roll 606 

After  the  Christian's  tears 140 

After  our  child's  untroubled  breath.  722 

Ah  !  I  shall  soon  be  dying 698 

Ah,  never  then 458 

Ah  !  this  heart  is  void  and  chill 556 

A  Home  in  Heaven  !  what  a  joyful 

thought loi 

Ah  !  how  empty  is  the  heart. 581 

A  little  while  to  toil  along 539 

A  little  longer  yet,  a  little  longer 550 

A  little  song  has  come  to  me 566 

"  A  little  while  " 558 

A   little   longer  still, — patience   be- 
loved ! 615 

"  A    little     while,"    so    spake    our 

gracious  Lord 513 

All  along  the  mighty  ages 285 

All  day  sigh  on  the  shore  the  surging 

billows 37 

Alleluia !    let    the    holy    sounds    of 

cheerful  praises  ring 358 

Alleluia !  sweetest  music,   voice   of 

everlasting  joy  ! 364 

A  light  there  is  above  which  plainly 

shows 272 

All  must  die  !  there's  no  redemption  491 

Alone  !  to  land  alone  upon  that  shore  66 

Angel  choirs  on  high  are  singing....  365 

An  aged  man,  by  sorrow  bowed 554 

And  at  Oriel's  signal  came 100 

And  lo,  upon  the  extreme  verge  of 

cloud 331 

And  O  beloved  voices,  upon  which. .  329 

And  is  there,  Lord  a  rest 380 

And  whence  this  weariness 600 

Angel  voices  sweetly  singing 50 

Angels  bright 295 

A  pilgrim  here  I  wander 661 


FAGB 

A  rest  here  have  I  never 409 

As  distant  lands  beyond  the  sea 299 

Arise,  my  soul '.  fly  up  and  run 132 

Arise,  my  soul,  arise 446 

Around  the  throne  of  God  in  heaven.  139 
Around  them,  bright  with   endless 

spring  perpetual  roses  bloom 368 

Art  thou  a  wanderer  ?  doth  no  loved 

one's  smile 388 

As  a  traveller  returning 665 

Ascend,  beloved,  to  the  joy 160 

An  eager  homebound  traveller  to  the 

goal 673 

A  song  of  a  boat 523 

As  through  the  artist's  intervening 

glass 106 

As  when  the  weary  traveller  gains. .  589 

At  home.     For  thou  hast  reached. . .  57 

Away  with  death  away 93 

Away  to  the  land  of  light 637 

A  weary,  wandering  soul  am  1 679 

Bathed  in  unfallen  sunlight 355 

Beautiful  Zion  !  city  renowned 149 

Before  us  now  it  rose,  "builded  aloft.  713 
Beside  a  massive  gateway  built  up  in 

j'ears  gone  by 313 

Beyond'  the    hills    where    suns    go 

down 501 

Beyond  the  smiling  and  the  weeping  519 

Brethren,  while  we  sojourn  here. . . .  676 
Bright    sun !    thou    dost    blessedly 

shine 363 

By  John  was  seen  a  wondrous  sight.  94 

Call  it  not  dying,  when  we  rest. . . .  63S 

Christ  let  me  come  to  thee  ! 435 

Christ  let  me  come  to  thee  ! 595 

Church  of  the  ever-living  God 370 


n^ 


INDEX   OF   FIRST   LINES. 


PAGE 

Clear  fount  of  light !  my  native  land 

on  high 3 

Clear  fount  of  light  I  my  native  land 

on  high 432 

"  Could  we  but  know  " 627 

Come,  brethren,  let  us  onward 620 

Come  forth !  come  on,  with  solemn 

song 652 

Come  Lord,  my  head  doth  burn,  my 

heart  is  sick 437 

Come,  let  us  join  our  friends  above.  476 

Come,  let  us  go  to  heaven, — the  way.  667 

Come,  let  us  lift  our  joyful  eyes 673 

Come,    let    us    anew     our    journey 

pursue 675 

Come  on,  companions  of  our  way. . .  668 

Come  to  me,  dreams  of  heaven 703 

Come  to  the  land  of  peace 102 

"  Come  up  hither,  come  away  " 1 1 1 

Dim  shadows  gather  thickly,  and  up 

the  misty  stair  they  climb 629 

Does  the  road  wind  up-hill  all  the 

way 688 

Down   below,   the    wild    November 

whistling 43 

Down  to  the  margin  of  the  shad- 
owy river 324 

Dream'st    thou   of    Heaven  ?— what 

dreams  arc  thine 727 

Drifting  away 38 

Dropping  down  the  troubled  river..  52S 

Earth  with  all  its  sin  and  sadness..  565 

Equal  to  angels  are  our  beloved 294 

Ere  the  rose  and  the  roseate  hues  of 

the  dawn .'..  145 

Eternity!  eternity! 49 

Fade,  fade,  each  earthly  joy 453 

Far    from    these  narrow  scenes    of 

night 9 

Farewell !  I  gae  to  sleep  ;  but  when.  354 

Far  from  the  discord  loud 404 

Far  from  his  breezy  home  of  cliff  and 

billow 579 

Father,  I  long,  I  faint  to  see 339 

Forever  with  the  Lord 171 


page 

"  Forever  with  the  Lord  " 590 

For  us  the  conflict  and  the  toi4 697 

For  we  were  on  ou»-  n-py  to  meet  our 

^•"•d 723 

From  this  vale  with  mists  hung  over  11 

From  this  bleak  hill  of  storms 385 

From  out  this  dim  and  gloomy  hol- 
low   13 

From  thee,  my  God,  my  joys  shall 


Give  me  my  scallop-shell  of  quiet. .  671 

Give  me  the  wings  of  faith  to  rise. . .  337 
Give  me  the  lowest  place  ;  not  that  I 

dare 274 

Glorious  things  of  thee  are  spoken. .  265 

Golden-winged,  silver- winged 715 

Hail  the  heavenly  scenes  of  peace..  54 

Hail  !  happy  day 54c 

Ha!  yon  burst  of  crystal  splendor...  81 
Hark  !  hark  !  my  soul  !  angelic  songs 

are  swelling 415 

Have  you  heard  of  the  tale  of  the  aloe 

plant 693 

Hear     what     God    the    Lord    hath 

spoken i 

Heavenward  doth  our  journey  tend.  583 
Here  may  the  band  that  now  in  tri- 
umph shines 98 

Here  may  the  band  that  now  in  tri- 
umph shines 347 

Her  streets  with  burnished  gold  are 

paved  round 270 

Here  is  no  bootless  quest 73c 

High  in  yonder  realms  of  light 177 

High  on  the  hills  the  wild  bird  hath 

its  nest 317 

High  the  angel  choirs  are  raising 34 

Hinder  me   not ! — the  path  is   long 

and  dreary 443 

His  sceptre  is  the  rod  of  Righteous- 
ness   371 

Hope  of  our  hearts,  O  Lord,  appear.  128 

Home  !  ah  how  soft  and  sweet 659 

How  bright  the  bloom,  those  heav- 
enly bowers 63 

How  happy  every  child  of  grace 543 


INDEX    OF    FIRST   LINES. 


711 


PAGE 

How   fain  my  joyous  heart  would 

sing 141 

How  sweetly  rest  at  home  those  who 

have  acted 3S1 

Hush  I  Heaven  !  he  whispered   soft 

and  clear 475 

I    AM   wandering  down    life's  shady 

path 612 

I    am  pressing  on  to  the  slippery 

shore 330 

I  cannot  feel  them  dead 718 

I  count  the  hope  no  day-dream  of  the 

mind 20 

\i  ever  life  should  seem 374 

If  loftier  posts  superior  state  declare  712 

1  f  this  our  little  life  is  but  a  day 14 

If  with  such  passing  beauty,  choice 

delights 168 

I  gazed  down  life's  dim  labyrinth.. . .  648 

I  give  you  the  end  of  a  golden  string.  697 

I  hail  you  not,  Mansions  divine 340 

I  built  my  nest  by  a  pleasant  stream  424 

I  have  a  home  alone — 2  cor.  v  :  i.. . .  707 

I  hear  thee  speak  of  the  better  land.  74 

I  John,  a  servant  of  the  Lord 275 

I  journey  forth  rejoicing 507 

I  know  not  where  those  blessed  man- 
sions lie 369 

I  know  the  walls  are  jasper 257 

I  love  (and  have  some  cause  to  love) 

the  earth 2S7 

T  love  to  think  of  Heaven  where   I 

shall  meet 471 

1  long  to  behold  him  arrayed 489 

I  love  yon  pale  blue  sky;  it  is  the 

floor 576 

I'm  a  pilgrim,  and  I'm  a  stranger 614 

I'm  but  a  stranger  here 664 

I'm    far    frae     my  hame,    and    I'm 

weary  oftenwhiles 531 

I'm  returning,  not  departing 642 

I'm  kneeling  at  the  threshold,  weary, 

faint  and  sore 523 

I'm  weary  of  straying  ;  O  fain  would 

I  rest 3S9 

I'm  wearin'  awa,  Jean 517 

I'm  weary — weary — let  me  go 450 


PAGH 

In  amaze 103 

In  the  Christian's  home  in  glory. . . .  417 

In  the  fair  gardens  of  celestial  x>eace  393 
In  the  fount  of  Life  perennial   the 

parched  heart  its  thirst  would  slake  239 

Into  the  city  in  silence  deep 639 

Into  the  silent  land  1 687 

In  some  hour  of  solemn  jubilee 698 

I  praised  the  earth  in  beauty  seen...  73 

I  saw  a  little  blade  of  grass 447 

I  see  them  far  away 48 

I  send  the  joys  of  earth  away 473 

Is  there  a  day 405 

I  stand  upon  the  river's  verge 514 

I  sojourn  in  a  vale  of  tears 704 

Is  this  the  way,  my  Father  ?     'Tis 

my  child 686 

It  kindles  all  my  soul 3 

It  lies  around  us  like  a  cloud 29 

I  thank  thee.  Father,  for  that  word 

of  peace 391 

It  is  not  death  to  die 681 

It  is  told  me  I  must  die 634 

I've  been  thinking  of  home,  of  "  my 

Father's  house" 547 

I  was  no  stranger  in  a  strange   land 

there 105 

I  would  not  live  alway, — live  alway 

below 553 

I  would  go  home  !  Fain  to  my  Fath- 
er's bouse 440 

Jerusalem,  high  tower,  thy  glorious 

walls 182 

Jerusalem!  Jerusalem! 230 

Jerusalem,  my  happy  home 137 

Jerusalem  my  home 231 

Jerusalem  on  high 22S 

Jerusalem  the  golden 1  So 

Jerusalem  the  holy  ! 169 

Jerusalem,  thou  city  fair  and  high. .  499 

Jesus,  guide  our  way 654 

Jesus,  still  lead  on 683 

Jesus,  to  thy  dear  wounds  we  flee...  131 

Joyfully,  joyfully  onward  I  move....  i3i 

Jo3rful  words.— we  meet  again  150 


73« 


INDEX   OF   FIRST   LINES. 


Keep   me  not   here !    a  voice   from 

Heaven  is  calling 557 

Know    ye   the   land  ?    Ah !    not    on 

earth  it  lies 678 

Know  ye  the  land  ? — on  earth  there 

vainly  sought 174 

**  Land  a-head  !  "  its  fruits  are  wav- 
ing   124 

Land  in  sight 732 

Launch  thy  boat,  mariner  ! 645 

Let  me  be  with  thee  where  thou  art.  472 

Let  me  go,  the  day  is  breaking 508 

Let  me  go  where  saints  are  going. . .  725 
Let  not  your  hearts  be  troubled  :  ye 

believe 118 

Light's  abode  celestial  Salem 335 

Light  waits  for  us  in  heaven  :  inspir- 
ing thought 56 

Longing  evermore  for  the  Fatherland 

above 561 

Long  in  this  wild,  wild  country 574 

Lord    God,    now    open    wide   Thy 

heaven 597 

Lord  of  the  worlds  above 273 

Lord,  I  believe  a  rest  remains 422 

Lord!  leadeth  not  this  desert  land..  119 

Lord  of  earth  thy  bounteous  hand ...  13 
Lord,  the    waves  are  breaking  o'er 

me  and  around 526 

Look  thou  no  further,  but  affix  thine 

e5'e 4 

Lo  !  the  day,  the  day  of  life,  the  day 

of  unimagined  light 58 

Lo  !  what  a  glorious  sight  appears..  139 

Meet    again  !    yes,   we   shall    meet 

again 478 

My  days  are  gliding  swiftly  by 634 

My  Father's  house  on  high 550 

My  feet  are  worn  and  weary  with  the 

march 530 

'Mid  scenes  of  confusion  and  crea- 
ture complaints 133 

My  God,  I  wait  for  thee 545 

'Mid  the  pastures  green  of  the  blessed 

isles 338 

My  Jesus  is  gone  up  to  heaven 104 


PAGB 

My  rest  is  in  heaven,  my  rest  is  not 

here 377 

My  Saviour  whom  absent  I  love 334 

My  soul  amid  this  stormy  world 505 

My  soul  there  is  a  countrie. .'. 349 

My  task  is  o'er,  my  work  is  done 571 

My  thirsty  soul  desires  her  drought.  34  j 
My  thoughts  surmount  these  lower 

skies I  iG 

"  No  graves  are  there  " 16 

No  joy  is  true,  save  that  which  hath 

no  end 36 

No!  no!  It  is  not  dying 619 

No    night  shall   be   in   heaven, — no 

gathering  gloom 15 

No  quiet  here  ! 394 

Nor  eye,  ear,  thought,  can  take  the 

height 79 

No  shadows  gather 406 

No  shadows  yonder  ! 588 

No  sickness  there 18 

No  sooner  had  the  Almighty  ceased, 

but  all 363 

No  tossing  of  the  burning  head 383 

Not  from  Jerusalem  alone 689 

Not  here  !  not  here  !  not  where  the 

sparkling  waters 53 

Not  long,  not  long ! — The  spirit-wast- 
ing fever 374 

Not  now,   my  child — a   little  more 

rough  tossing 537 

Now,  brighter  than  the  host  that  all 

night  long 700 

Now  let  our  souls,  on  wings  sublime  135 

Now  Lord  let  me  go  ! — 1 443 

Now  the  pilgrim,  sad  and  weary....  351 

Oh  !  beams  there,  Lord,  upon  Thine 

own 318 

O'er  the  hills  the  sun  is  setting 541 

O  for  the  peace  which  fioweth  as  a 

river 437 

Oft  in  my  mansion  would  some  elder 

saint 711 

Oft  weeping  memory  sits  alone 344 

O  God,  who  far  from  mortal  sight. . .  448 

O  happy  saints,  who  dwell  in  light. .  333 


INDEX   OF   FIRST   LINES. 


739 


PAGE 

Oh  birds  from  out  the  east,  oh  birds 

from  out  the  west 399 

Oh,  could  our  thoughts  and  wishes 

fly 423 

Oh  !  for  the  calm  beyond  the  storms  585 

Oh  for  the  robes  of  whiteness  ! 496 

Oh  for  a  sweet  inspiring  ray 363 

Oh  for  the  wings  of  faith  and  love. . .  490 

Oh,  for  the  pearly  gates  of  heaven. . .  135 
Oh,  had  I,  my  Saviour,  the  wings  of 

a  dove 422 

Oh  had  I  the  wings  like  yonder  bird.  432 
Oh,  heaven  is  nearer  than  mortals 

think 31 

Oh,  I  hear  them  tell  of  a  country 

fair 15S 

O  mother  dear  Jerusalem  ! 1S5 

Oh,  paradise  must  show  more  fair. . .  221 

Oh,  paradise  must  fairer  be 173 

Oh  !  talk  to  me  of  heaven  !  I  love ...  40 

Oh,  with  what  congratulations 32S 

Oh,  what  a  mighty  change 416 

Oh  when  shall  we  sweetly  remove. . .  335 

O  when  did  lips  such  grace  declare  ?  305 

Oh  the  delights,  the  heavenly  joys. .  342 

Oh!  stars  of  glory,  lights  of  heaven.  283 

Oh  Spirit  freed  from  bondage 3S7 

Oh,  weary,  halting  pilgrim 592 

Oh !   who  will   show  me   those   de- 
lights on  high  ? 151 

O  angel  of  the  land  of  peace 560 

O  Beauteous  God,  uncircumscribed 

treasure 147 

O  Christ,  how  good  and  fair 502 

O  heavenly  Jerusalem '152 

O  Heaven  !  sweet  Heaven  !  the  home 

of  the  blest 457 

O  long  to  be  installed  in  the  throne.  459 

O  luce  qui  mortalibus 449 

O  merciful  One 434 

Once  in  a  dream  I  saw  the  flowers..  59 

One  sweetly  solemn  thought 632 

On,  in  the  morn's  first  pleasant  smile  653 

Only  one  crossing  over 623 

Only  waiting  till  the  shadows 546 

On,  on,  through  the  storm  and  the 

billow 655 

One  is  weary  with  this  load 393 


PAGE 

O  paradise,  O  paradise 463 

Open  is  the  starry  hall 163 

Open,  O  gate  of  sleep  ! 390 

Open  ye  gates,  for  the  battle  hath 

ended 309 

O  tell  me  no  more  of  this  world's  vain 

store 464 

O  to  be  there 431 

O  safe    at    home,    where    the    dark 

tempter  roams  not 414 

O  sing  to  nae  of  Heaven 623 

O  sweet  home-echo  on  the  pilgrim's 

way 569 

Our  beloved  have  departed 636 

Our  country  is  Immanuel's  ground. .  134 
Our  course  is  onward,  onward  into 

light. 3 

Over  the  river  they  beckon  to  me. . .  306 
O  where  shall  the  soul  find  her  rest 

and  her  home 433 

Palms  of  glory  raiment  bright 354 

Patient  art  Thou,    Lord,   and    gra- 
cious   73 

Permit  mine  eyes  to  see 456 

Pilgrims  we  are,  to  Canaan  bound..  633 

Pilgrims — on  !  the  day  is  dawning...  635 

Region  of  life  and  light 353 

Rest  for  the  toiling  hand 430 

Rest,  weary  soul 425 

Rise,  crowned  with  light,  imperial 

Salem,  rise 325 

Rise,  my  soul,  and  stretch  thy  wing^  474 

Safe  home,  safe  home  in  port ! 408 

Save  me  Lord  !  thou  Judge  eternal.  438 
Say,  why  should  friendship  grieve  for 

those 346 

Seraphs  with  elevated  strains 366 

Service  there  is  rest 729 

Shall  we  gather  at  the  river 631 

She  hath  but  passed  to  Heaven  as  if 

from  sleep 303 

She  is  in  Heaven !   How  sweet  the 

phrase 304 

Should  nature's   charms,   to   please 

the  eye 491 


740 


INDEX    OF   FIRST   LINES. 


PAGE 

Since  o'er  thy  footstool  here  below. .  27 

Sing  with  me,  sing  with  me 369 

Sitting  lonely,  dusky  shadows 533 

So  in  our  simple  creed 525 

So  near,  and  yet  so  far,  that  fane  of 

gold 626 

Soon  and  forever  1 46 

Soul,  when   your   flesh   dissolves  to 

dust 336 

Spirit !  thy  labor  is  o'er  ! 398 

Surely  yon  heaven,  where  angels  see 

God's  face 24 

Star  of  morn  and  even 470 

Sweet  glories  rush  upon  my  sight. . .  465 

Sweet  must  it  be  to  dwell  secure 3S8 

Sweet  place,  sweet  place  alone 467 

Tell  me  ye  winged  winds 375 

The  beauty  of  my  native  land 452 

The  dew  is  on  the  summer's  green- 
est grass 455 

The  earth,  all  light  and  loveliness  in 

summer's  golden  hours 479 

The   favored  of  their  judge  in   tri- 
umph move 141 

The  golden  palace  of  my  God 117 

The  God  of  Abraham  praise 153 

The  holy  Jerusalem 167 

The  land  beyond  the  sea 64 

"  The   land  is  wondrous   fair "    the 

Angel  said 281 

The  last  of  the  hours  iniquity  towers  214 

The  leaves  around  me  falling 573 

"  The  loved  and  lost !  "  why  do  we 

call  them  lost  ? 2S4 

The  music  of  Heaven  is  attuned  to  a 

measure 361 

The  saints  on  earth,  when  sweetly 

they  converse 21 

The  sands  of  time  are  sinking 609 

The  song  of  Heaven  is  ever  new,  for 

daily  thus 362 

The  stream  is  calmest  when  it  nears 

the  tide 3S2 

The  tide  has  ebbed  away 549 

The  time  is  very  near 68 

The  toil  is  very  long  and  I  am  tired.  426 

The  roseate  hues  of  early  dawn 466 


PAGH 

The  way  seems  long,  dear  leader  ; 

and  my  feet 691 

The  world  is  very  evil 20c 

There's    a    beautiful    land    by    the 

spoiler  untrod 366 

There's  a  sound  of  feet  in  the  desert 

track 658 

There  breathes  no  sigh  from   those 

calm  hearts  in  that  abode  of  peace  56 
There    came,    sometimes,    brightly 

beaming 586 

There's  a  gate  at  the  close  of  the 

pathway  of  light 591 

There  is  a  land  like  Eden  fair 25 

There  is   a   fold   whence    none    can 

stray 136 

There  is  a  land  mine  eye  hath  seen.  126 

There  is  a  land  of  pure  delight 127 

There  is  a  world  of  perfect  bliss.. . .  130 

There  is  a  blessed  home . .  -. 75 

There  is  a  dwelling-place  above 8 

There  is  an  hour  of  peaceful  rest 109 

There  is  an  hour  of  hallowed  peace.  418 
There  are  refreshments  sweeter  far 

than  sleep 504 

There  is  a  house  not  made 564 

There  is  a  land  immortal 641 

There  is  a  place  of  sacred  rest 268 

There  is  a  Reaper  whose  name 669 

There  is  a  river  pure  and  bright....  264 

There  is  no  ni^ht  in  heaven 61 

There  remaineth,  it  is  written 403 

These  are  the  crowns  that  we  shall 

wear 326 

They  are  perfectly  blest  the  re- 
deemed and  the  free 357 

They  are  gathering  homeward  from 

every  land 308 

They  have  struggled  away  from  the 

city  of  tears 677 

This  advent  moon  shines  cold  and 

clear S^a 

This  is  not  my  place  of  resting 584 

Thirsts  my  weary  spirit 194 

This   world   is   bright  and    fair    we 

know iia 

This  world  is  all  a  fleeting  show. . . .  ii6 

This  world  I  deem 7^ 


INDEX   OF   FIRST   LINES. 


741 


PAGE 

Thou  art  mine,   yes,  still  thou  art 

mine  own 288 

Thou  wilt  never  grow  old 299 

Through  the  cross  comes  the  crown  ; 

when  the  cares  of  this  life 644 

Through  night  to  light,  and  though 

to  mortal  eyes 6S4 

Throughout  the  changing  scenes  of 

earth 510 

Thus  heaven  is  gathering  one  by  one 

in  its  capacious  breast 20 

Thy  way,  not  mine,  O  Lord 682 

Time  is  winging  us  away 114 

Tis  first  the  true  and  then  the  beau- 
tiful,       397 

'Tis  not  a  silent  land  ! 32 

'Tis  thus  they  press   the   hand   and 

part 345 

To    dream    a    troubled   dream   and 

then  awaken 572 

To    me,   though   neither  voice  nor 

sound 159 

To  Jesus  the  crown  of  my  hope  ! 493 

Tossed  on  the  billows  far  and  wide. .  578 
Two  worlds  there  are.     To  one  our 

eyes  we  strain 258 

Upon  the  shore 115 

Wake,  awake,  for  night  is  flying 143 

We  are  pilgrims  bound  for  the  bet- 
ter land 64S 

Weary  and  worn,  at  close  of  day . . . .     534 

Weary  life  we  live  below 55 

We    dwell    this    side    of    Jordan's 

stream 138 

We  have  no  home  but  heaven 536 

We  meet  in  joy,  though  we  part  in 

sorrow 85 

We  need  that    Charmer,    for    our 

hearts  are  sore 720 

We're  going  home,  we've  had  visions 

bright 710 

"  We've  no  abiding  city  here  " 113 

We    speak    of    the    realms    of    the 

blest aS 

What  a  poor  value  do  men   set  on 

heaven  1 731 


What  sweetness  on  thine  earth  doth 

dwell 43 

What  joy,  while  thus  I  view  the  day.  497 

Wh'at  means  yon  blaze  on  high  ?....  296 

What  no  human  eye  hath  seen 6 

What  place  can  be  for  us no 

What  shall  we  be,  and  whither  shall 

we  go 91 

What  sinners  value  I  resign 123 

What  shall   we  sing  on   that    ever- 
green shore 360 

What  then  ?  Why  then  another  pil- 
grim song 407 

What  to  that  for  which  we're  waiting  175 

When  for  eternal  worlds  I  steer 643 

When  God  at  tirst  made  man 396 

When  I  can  read  my  title  clear 419 

When  Israel  reached  their  homes  at 

last 605 

When   I    gaze  on  the   light   of  yon 

beautiful  sky loS 

When  I  think  what  shall  befall 236 

When  now  at  last  the  hour  is  come..  59S 

When  shall  my  soul  repose 445 

When  shall  I  be  at  rest  ?     My  trem- 
bling heart 373 

When  the  angels  all  are  singing 355 

When  the  crickets  chirp  in  the  even- 
in? 515 

When  the  death-dews  dim  my  eyes.  717 

When  tempests  toss,  and  billows  roll  156 

When  we  reach  a  quiet  dwelling 260 

When  mysterious  whispers  are  float- 
ing about 336 

When  nightly  through  the  sky 88 

When  on  my  new-fledged   wings  I 

rise 711 

When  shall  the  dawn  of  day 567 

When  shall  we  meet  again 577 

When  we  hear  the  music  ringing.. . .  106 

When  wild  confusion  wrecks  the  air  133 

When  yonder  glorious  sky 493 

Whence  came  that  multitude  ?     Ah  ! 
they  have  marched  through  paths 

of  flame 315 

Where  is  the  land  he  saw  in  glorious 

vision 233 

Where  is  the  unknown  country  ? 162 


742 


INDEX   OF  FIRST   LINES. 


PAGE 

Where  dost  thou  lie,  O  land  of  peace  520 

Where  the  faded  flowers  shall  freshen  21 
While  through  this  changing  world 

we  roam 608 

Who  are  those  before  God's  throne..  301 

Who  are  they  the  crown  who  win...  319 
Who  is  it  clad  in  garments  radiant 

white 328 

Who,  Lord  of  Glory,  will  partake...  656 

While  on  the  verge  of  life  I  stand. . .  487 

Will  it  no  pleasure  be 249 

Winter  braming  summer  flaming.. . .  179 

World,  farewell  !  of  thee  I'm  tired..  602 
Wouldst  thou  inherit  life  with  Christ 

on  high? 647 


PAGE 

Ye    angels    who    stand    round    the 

throne 486 

Ye  come  to  me  in  midnight  dream. .  709 

Ye  golden  lamps  of  Heaven  farewell  402 

Ye  whoe'er  for  Christ  are  seeking. . .  343 

Yes!  bear  them  to  their  rest 310 

Yes,  let  me  die  I  am  I  of  spirit  birth  416 
Yes  !  there  is  rest  above  !    Heaven's 

light  is  pouring 421 

Yes,  there  remaineth  yet  a  rest 378 

Yet  a  little  care  and  weeping 384 

ZioN  is  our  home •••«..  730 


THE  END. 


NOTICES 

FROM   SOME   OF 

THE   LEADIXG   PAPERS 

ON 

ji^i^^^Ji    |]N    ?><)Ji<\. 


"  It  contains  a  collection  of  the  Christian  lyrics  from  every  age  of  the  Church  in 
which  the  attractions  of  Heaven  have  been  portrayed  with  the  embellishments  of 
verse.  The  materials  of  the  work  have  been  derived  from  a  great  variety  of 
sources,  including  the  choicest  hymnology  in  different  languages,  and  the  master- 
pieces of  the  most  celebrated  religious  poets.  It  is  remarkable  to  hov,-  great  an  extent 
the  joys  of  Heaven  have  formed  the  theme  of  religious  song." — Tribune,  New  York, 


"  The  elegance  of  this  book  is  worthy  of  praise,  yet  it  scarcely  deserves  mention 
in  view  of  its  inward  and  spiritual  beauty.  It  is  a  treasure-house  of  poetry  on  the 
highest  theme,  collected  by  an  Evangelical  compiler." — Christian  Eegister,  Boston. 


"  I  congratulate  you  on  the  success  of  the  book,  and  on  its  deserving  success.  II 
is  an  admirable  collection ."— Pro/".  A.  C.  Kendrick,  LL.D.,  RocJiester  University^ 
New  York. 


"One  of  the  choicest  publications  of  the  kind  that  has  ever  been  issued  from  the 
press."  "As  a  choice  selection  of  the  real  gems  of  religious  poetry,  it  wiU  be  hard 
to  find  its  eqtxal."  "  A  work  which,  besides  being  prized  as  a  collection  of  the 
highest  order  of  religious  literature,  will  be  sought  for  by  every  lover  of  beautiful 
poetry."  " '  Heaven  in  Song '  will  become  a  popular  favorite."— clom/ncma^  Bul- 
letin. Boston. 


"Altogether  it  is  a  most  sumptuous  volume.  In  its  matter  it  is  equally  accept- 
able. The  general  theme  touches  the  deepest  springs  of  our  nature,  and  appeals  to 
all  classes.  Heaven  has  been  the  inspiration  of  the  sweetest  songs  through  all  the 
ages,  and  it  speaks  to  the  reader  as  it  kindles  the  itoeV— Evening  Journal, 
Chicago. 


"  This  beautiful  book,  which  comes  from  the  cunning  hand  of  the  workman  wiih 
all  the  perfection  of  the  printer's  and  binder's  art,  contains  the  choicest  selections 
from  the  greatest  poets  of  all  ages  upon  this  celestial  theme.  Heaven  has  been  the 
dream  of  many  a  wrapt  inspiration,  and  the  inexhaustible  beauty  of  its  ideal  has  no 
less  inspired  the  pencil  of  a  Martin  than  it  has  weaned  from  the  groveling  passions 
of  earth  the  most  corrupted  genius  of  immortal  i^ong.'*''— Inter- Ocean,  Chicago. 


Ill  J 


e 


